Memories
by igobumpinthedark
Summary: In the midst of a raging war, Hermione Granger is sent spiraling back through time at the last request of a dear friend. Emerging in the time of the Marauders, will she be able to set everything right? And will she destroy her future in the process?
1. Chapter 1

"Hermione," she rasped, her pale eyes bleary with pain as she grasped at a gaping wound in her side.

"Professor!" Hermione yelped fluttering her hands uselessly over the bleeding woman.

Minerva pressed something metallic and cool into Hermione's hands urgently. "Take this, Granger," she rasped. "Twenty seven and three-quarters turn – not a centimeter more or less. You have to set it right."

Hermione looked wildly down into her palm and saw that the professor had bestowed her with a time turner. These devices had all been destroyed under the new corrupt ministry. She raised her chocolate eyes back up to her professor and nodded resolutely. Whatever Minerva had planned and wherever she was sending her in time; Hermione had no doubt that it was of the utmost importance.

"Twenty-seven and three-quarters, Professor McGonagall, I understand." Hermione assured the bleeding woman.

"Go now, Hermione," she rasped. "Prevent this all."

These were the last words Minerva McGonagall spoke.

Hermione cast her gaze over the bloodied battlefield and saw Ron and Harry locked in a fierce battle with a large death eater, she aimed a killing curse at the masked form and he fell heavily to the ground. Harry and Ron turned, saw Hermione, and launched themselves behind the rock.

"Bloody hell, no," Ron moaned, looking down and the corpse of McGonagall.

"Ron, Harry," Hermione hissed, holding up the time turner for them to see.

"Did McG," Harry stuttered.

"Yes," Hermione said urgently.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked.

"I'm not sure, but it must be very important. She said I can prevent all of this."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione held very still. They understood that this might very well be the last time they were all together. Time turners were finicky bits of magic, and usually the longer back you went the less chance you had of ever returning.

Harry threw his arms around her neck and kissed her soundly on the lips. "I love you Hermione, please, please try to come back to us."

Hermione wiped away a tear. "If there is an 'us' to come back to," she vowed.

Again, the trio paused. It was very realistic to think that if Voldemort could be prevented in the past so, too, could their very own births.

With a gut-wrenching sob, Ron threw his arms around the two already embracing and kissed Hermione's quivering lips fleetingly. "If there is an 'us' to come back to," he echoed her oath.

With a deep breath, Hermione grasped the time turner and began to count quietly.

"One, two, three,…"

Time travel, any way you look at it, is never a pleasant experience; a bit like apparating only much worse and much longer.

When Hermione finally finished being sucked through the time-space continuum, she found herself flat on her back in a large patch of dew-covered grass.

She pulled her wand and sat up, glancing around warily. She found herself confronted with the front doors of none other than Hogwarts.

She leapt to her feet and slammed through the front doors, barely noting that the castle was empty, before sliding to a halt outside the gargoyle that concealed Dumbledore's office.

"Er," she grunted. "Acid Pops!"

The stone gargoyle didn't move.

"Chocolate frogs!" she cried.

Nothing.

"Lemon drops, sugar quills, pumpkin pasties, cauldron cakes, BLOODY HELL!" she roared, kicking the unmoving gargoyle for good measure.

"I assure you, my dear child, that the password has not ever been, nor will ever be, a curse word." A familiar amused voice said from behind her.

"Dumbledore!" she nearly wept, turning to face him.

He smiled back at her languidly. "Have we met?"

Hermione wrinkled her brows. "Not yet,"

"Please to make your acquaintance then,…"

"Hermione. Hermione Granger." She supplied quickly.

"Hermione Granger," he echoed slowly. "I've the oddest sense of de-ja-vu. Care for tea?" he asked, motioning toward the gargoyle. She nodded enthusiastically.

"Bot's Beans," he said evenly and the gargoyle began its smooth ascent.

"Now," he asked after they were settled across from each other at his desk with their teacups untouched. "What brings you to Hogwarts?"

"Er," she hesitated. "I'm not sure, really, um, sorry Professor, do you happen to know today's date?"

"August the thirty-first." He answered.

"Of," she prompted.

He cocked his head to the side slightly. "Nineteen-seventy-six, of course. Are you all right, dear?"

Hermione silently removed the time turner from around her neck and laid it across his desk. He regarded it for a moment before flashing a sad smile at her.

"You're not from this time," he observed. "There must be great danger ahead to risk sending someone back very far in time."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, Professor Dumbledore. The world, Muggle and Wizard alike, is in grave danger in my time."

Dumbledore nodded his understanding. "Does it perhaps have to do with a wizard by the name of Lord,…"

"Voldemort." Hermione finished.

Dumbledore sighed. "I feared as much. He is very much in power now, Miss Granger."

Hermione thought a moment. "Nineteen-seventy-six," she breathed. "Wait, have you heard of James Potter or Lily Evans or Sirius Black or Remus Lupin?"

"Of course, they are returning here tomorrow for their final year of study. Do they play a future roll?"

"They're all dead," Hermione replied absently already thinking, not noticing the pallor of Dumbledore at her casual pronouncement of death.

"Dead, my dear child?" he stammered.

Hermione glanced up. "Oh, er, sorry. Um, yes, dead – in my time at least."

"How?"

"Er," Hermione said biting her lip. "Is it wise to share all this? Couldn't it alter the future with just my words?"

"It could, yes, but these details are for my own mind, I dare say – I shall never share them with another soul."

"Ok," she said uneasily. "Erm, Voldemort killed James first, then Lily as she was protecting their son, Harry. Sirius, after he breaks out from Azkaban for muggle murders, will die by Bellatrix Lestrange's hand. Remus will die in the final battle, I saw his body just before I transported back here, after Professor McGonagall gave me the time turner before she died."

"Minerva," he breathed, looking shaken.

Hermione winced.

"Their son," Dumbledore murmured, then paused. "Muggle murders?"

"Completely false," Hermione assured him. "Sirius will be set up by Peter Pettigrew."

Dumbledore sat back, his mouth working, but no sound escaping.

"Perhaps I've revealed too much."

"No," Dumbledore assured her softly. "I will file it away in the deepest recess' of my mind and think not on it. But we are in a pickle."

Hermione nodded her agreement.

"What to do? What to do?" he pondered as he sipped absently at his now cold tea.

"Well," Hermione thought slowly. "The whole war focuses around Harry…maybe, maybe," she choked on her own words here and had to wait for the ache in her heart to lessen before she went on. "Maybe if Harry never came to be,"

"Oho," Dumbledore said slowly. "One possibility, yes, but if it is possible I would like to refrain from the removal or death of any innocent person."

Hermione nodded tightly.

"Couldn't we just go an kill Voldemort now?" Hermione asked. "I don't mind doing it at all."

"Another possibility my dear, and one I largely favor. Except," he trailed off.

"Except what, Professor?"

"We've been trying that for years and I dare say Voldemort won't be so easily defeated,"

"Oi!" Hermione cried, slapping her head. "The horcruxs."

Dumbledore looked aghast. "Voldemort has made a horcrux?"

"Seven,"

The old wizard looked near faint and placed a pale hand over his heart. "Seven?"

"Although I doubt very much if he has all seven in place yet. Perhaps though," she mused.

"My dear child," Dumbledore began slowly. "You said that the war revolves around your friend, Harry. Why is that?"

"The prophecy…OI!" she cried, terribly excited now. "That's it!" Dumbledore smiled in his confusion.

"Professor, some time in the future you will have a meeting with a woman by the name of Sybil Trelawney who wishes to take employment here as a Professor of Divination. She is, by the way, utter rubbish. However, during this meeting she will actually deliver a prophecy to you about Lord Voldemort.

In it, it will predict Harry's birth and say that only one – Harry or Voldemort – can survive; but not both."

"Indeed?" Dumbledore asked curiously.

Hermione nodded. "During this meeting, Severus Snape will be listening at the door. He will take the prophesy back to Voldemort. It's the prophecy that makes Voldemort kill the Potter's. If he never knows about it, he'll never know that Harry is his equal. He'll never expect us to find his Horcruxs and then kill him in the end!"

"You are on to something, my dear, it sounds like." Dumbledore replied, happily popping a lemon drop into his mouth. "Tell me, what is in my future?"

Hermione averted her eyes.

"Death then, is it? How wonderfully adventurous! How do I meet my demise?"

"It's a,…a long story Professor. One that I'm not sure I should divulge. Besides, it's probability irrelevant now that we've figured it out."

"All the more reason to share, I do love a good story, and I'm wonderful at keeping secrets."

Hermione paused. "Snape kills you." She said bluntly.

"Severus? I'd not had seen that one coming."

"He does it at your request."

Dumbledore blinked rapidly. "Perhaps this is a story you should not share," he agreed finally and Hermione nodded.

After a few more minutes of rapid fire directions and insistence that Dumbledore take notes, Hermione had conveyed the entire plan to him along with specific, yet cryptic, messages to be relayed to James, Lilly, Sirius, and Remus.

She reached for the time turner slowly. "I hope it is enough, Professor," she said vaguely.

"I suspect it will be. I am armed with good information." He assured her. "Remember to add a turn and three-quarters on you journey back."

Hermione nodded, remembering Fairyweather's Fourth Law on Time Travel.

She began to count, "One, two, three…"

Nothing happened. The time turner was broken; Hermione gave a little moan and covered her mouth with her hand.

"No fear," Dumbledore said warmly, taking the turner from her fingers gently. "I've a good friend who is especially adept at fixing these."

Hermione looked at him, the horror in her eyes lessening slightly. "Really?"

Dumbledore nodded serenely. "A month, maybe two, at most."

Hermione looked dumbly up at him. "A month?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Good results take time. In the mean time, you may assimilate into the school."

Hermione just stared.

"We'll simply say that you were home schooled until now and that you wished to finish your last year of magical education at Hogwarts. I will insert you into Gryffindor as that is your house, yes?"

Hermione nodded numbly.

"Perhaps you can pass on your cryptic warnings now as you best see fit. Your motley crew, as you no doubt know, are all Gryffindors."

Again Hermione nodded mutely. She was sure, absolutely positive, that somewhere in the bylaws of time travel it was expressly forbidden to cavort with your best friends parents – before they even knew they were going to get married let alone have a baby.

Glancing up at Dumbledore, she couldn't help but think he looked very pleased with himself.

She sat quietly, in the empty hall, her heart beating so violently fast she seriously thought that she might die. Yes, the hall was empty but at any minute it would begin to fill with rowdy students – including her best friend's dead parents. It was creepy. Plain and simple.

Just then, she heard the front doors bang open and excited chattering flooding into the school. She nestled deeper into her Gryffindor robes and ducked her head, concentrating on the wood grain patterns of the table.

The hall began to fill quickly and without looking up, Hermione knew she was surrounded. She sensed the bodies before she saw them and she raised her brown eyes very slowly.

The first thing she saw nearly knocked the wind out of her. It was Harry – or nearly. James Potter sat across from her smiling with his arm flung around – oh my Gods – Lily Evans, Harry's mom.

"Hello," Lily said softly. "I'm Lily and this is James," her voice had a very pleasant melodic ring to it.

Hermione managed a small smile.

"That's Remus," James said pointing to the younger version of her old professor beside Lily. "And that mangy mongrel beside him is,"

"Sirius. Sirius Black. My pleasure." Sirius purred, rising halfway, capturing her hand, and pressing his lips to it reverently.

Hermione turned six shades of red. "I'm, er, Hermione Granger." She managed.

"Hermione," Lily said with a smile. "That's a pretty name."

"Befitting a beautiful woman," Sirius breathed, earning him a sharp jab in the ribs from Lupin.

"Don't mind him," Lily laughed, hooking her thumb at Sirius. "He's a bit of a,.."

"Whore," Lupin inserted cheerfully, earning him a punch to the shoulder from Sirius.

"I was going to say 'flirt', but if the shoe fits,…" Lily laughed and James smirked.

"So, are you new?" Remus asked.

Hermione nodded. "Yeah, I was home schooled before."

"Hogwarts is the place to be." James said lightly.

Hermione touched her forehead softly; this was the weirdest experience of her life.

"So," Sirius breathed, sitting forward. "Are you single?"

"Oh for the love of Merlin!" Remus cried. "Give it a rest, will you?"

Sirius narrowed his storm colored eyes at his friend. "A completely legitimate question, Moony."

"Can you give her a day or two to acclimate?" Lupin snapped.

Sirius turned his eyes to her and dragged them obviously down then up her torso. "A day," he agreed lightly.

Hermione snorted, blushed, and lowered her eyes.

"Can't you ever keep your mouth shut? You're going to make her regret being sorted into our house." Lily asked, leaning forward to meet Sirius' eyes.

"Lils," Sirius said very somberly with his hand over his heart. "Have you seen her? I can't help it; I'm in love."

Lily sighed and flashed a sympathetic glance toward Hermione, before the hall fell silent and the Sorting began.

Later that night as Hermione was settled into her bed, Lily's bed next to hers, she let her mind wander as the other girls slept.

This day had been, hands down, the most surreal experience of her life. It was so weird talking to, and interacting with, people who she knew to be dead. If she ever made it back to her time; she would have some stories for Harry.

She missed her friends painfully and she allowed a few tears to fall after casting a silencing charm around her bed.

Her head was spinning. She didn't belong here – not now. She felt as if she were drowning, sinking into the lake with no one to pull her out.

She threw back her covers and forgoing her robe, she climbed quietly down the stairs to the common room – she needed space to breathe.

Too late she noticed that someone had had similar ideas and was standing before the smoldering fire thoughtfully. He turned slightly and Hermione caught the outline of shaggy hair before the rumbling voice confirmed it.

"Hermione?" Sirius asked quietly.

She cringed slightly and folded her arms across the tank tap she wore. "Evening Sirius,"

He crooked a finger at her and against her better judgment she approached him. In one fluid movement he snatched a fur blanket from the chair beside him and draped it around her shoulders. She smiled slightly up at him. He motioned her to the couch where she folded down into a cushion, drawing the blanket around herself tightly. Sirius settled onto the floor beside her, aimed his wand at the fireplace and had the fire roaring again.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked.

"Something like that. You?" she replied.

Sirius shrugged. "I've got a lot on my mind."

Hermione sighed softly, it would be much easier to talk about his problems than hers. "Care to share?" she asked.

Sirius smiled and waved his hand dismissively. "All unimportant."

"Hmm," Hermione mused. "Family problems, perhaps?"

Sirius looked up at her sharply. "What do you know of my family?"

Hermione shrugged. "Everyone knows who the Black's are."

Sirius' eyes narrowed dangerously and Hermione smiled softly.

"You are, then, the rumored disowned son I take it?"

"And proud of it," he snarled.

"A Gryffindor through and through." She agreed and he smiled.

Hermione turned her face toward the fire and stared at it thoughtfully for awhile.

"You know," Sirius said, breaking her train of thought and she turned slightly to gaze at him. "I'm honestly not a whore,"

Hermione laughed. "I know that, Sirius."

"You do?" he asked.

"Of course," Hermione answered.

She contemplated him for a moment, aching to throw herself into his arms and tell him everything; that they knew each other, lived together for a summer, trusted each other, that he would die. But she settled instead on a more cryptic answer.

"I know a lot about you, Sirius Black."

"You think so, Hermione Granger?" he murmured.

"I do."

"What do you know?" he asked playfully.

"Hmm," she mused. "Let's see. Sirius Black, older brother to Regulus Black who is in Slytherin house as we speak. Son of Orion and Walburga Black, disowned, and currently living with the Potters. Am I correct so far?"

Sirius, his eyebrow cocked, motioned for her to continue.

"Fiercely loyal to your friends, you are willing to lay your life down for them. A playboy and shameless flirt, you are lusted after by a good percentage of all the females in Hogwarts. You dream of joining the Order of the Phoenix upon graduation and helping to bring down the Dark Lord. You're favorite color is, indeed, black or any derivative of black, but the scarlet and gold of Gryffindor are dear to you as well. You hate waking up in the morning and, consequently, today at classes you'll be a complete arse due to your lack of sleep. You are a natural born prankster and spend hours dreaming up elaborate jokes. You run around with James Potter, Remus Lupin, and less desirable; Peter Pettigrew. Whom, by the way, I have not met yet. Oh, and you abhor Severus Snape."

Sirius looked up at her dumbfounded. "How in the bloody hell,…"

Hermione smiled. "I do my homework."

"That goes beyond homework, Hermione,"

"I've frightened you," Hermione said softly.

"I don't frighten that easily. Did you talk to Lily?" he asked.

"No. I talked to Dumbledore," she lied smoothly.

"Dumble,.." Sirius paused. "Well shit, if he's keeping the close of an eye on me I should probably stay low to the ground this year." He laughed.

"He's got one thing wrong though," Sirius went on.

"Oh?" Hermione said, sitting forward. "What's that?"

"I'm not a playboy. A flirt, I'll give him, but,…" he trailed off.

"Your bark's worse than your bite?" Hermione suggested.

He laughed. "Sometimes,"

"It's late and I have most of my classes with you," Hermione said, rising. "And you're going to be a complete git if you don't get some sleep."

Sirius chuckled and rose with her.

"Goodnight, Sirius," she said, turning away.

He caught her by the wrist and spun her back toward himself, the blanket falling to the floor in the process. One hand went to the small of her back, crushing her body against his and the other wound itself into her curls as he brought his lips crashing down on hers.

Hermione's mind screamed in protest. This was wrong, wrong, wrong! Her body, however, had other plans.

Her hands wove their way around his neck, tangling in the dark locks there. Her body pushed hungrily against his, and her throat emitted the softest sigh when he ran his tongue across her bottom lip. With a little coaxing, Hermione yielded her mouth to him and their tongues met in a fiery dance. After awhile Sirius pulled away slightly, keeping his hand still firmly placed on her back, and smiled down at her.

"Alright, love?" he purred.

Hermione was gasping for air. "You. Are. Going. To. Regret. That." She panted.

"Oh?" he chuckled.

Hermione nodded limply and pulled away from him completely. "Trust me, when you're about thirty-five, and you remember my name, you're going to regret that."

"I'll take my chances," he said solemnly, swooping in and pressing his lips to hers chastely once more. Hermione didn't see any point in resisting now, so she just sighed and shook her head.

"I'll see you at breakfast, love," he murmured breathily in her ear before nipping her earlobe and walking away.

Hermione was left standing in the middle of the common room, quivering, and pondering how her recent actions would effect the course of history.

The first few weeks of the school year, it seemed to Hermione that she was constantly rebuffing Sirius' advances. It became so natural to them that he would simply look at her, she would say 'no', and he would go back to whatever he was doing while muttering about her coming around.

Against her better judgment she had been accepted into, and become a part of, their small group. She found that she connected really well with Lily and they spent a lot of time together while the boys were off pranking the school.

She also developed a warm friendship with Lupin, which didn't startle her in the least as she had a good relationship with him in the future as well.

One cool October evening, Hermione was strolling back to the common room with Lily when they crossed paths with Severus Snape.

"Lily," he said slowly, pain clearly etched across his face.

Lily narrowed her eyes, raised her chin defiantly, and ignored him, continuing her march with a bit more oomph in her step.

"Er," Hermione said after they'd passed him. "I've forgotten my quill, I'll be right back!"

"I'll come with you," Lily offered, starting to turn.

"No! Er, I mean, that's ok. You go ahead, I'll be right there and make sure Sirius isn't planning on slipping me a love potion again or anything," Hermione laughed quickly, turning and jogging back down the corridor.

She'd decided spur of the moment, that perhaps she could save Snape from the future when she saw him.

"Severus, right?" she asked, falling in step beside him.

"Who are you?" he hissed, stopping in his tracks.

"My name is Hermione Granger. We have potions together." She said cheerfully.

He didn't look quite as sallow at this age, though still very pale with long lank hair and his trademark beaked nose. Although, Hermione thought, gazing into his face, that perhaps his nose would be broken a few times in future, because it's didn't look nearly as crooked or hooked as she remembered it.

"And," he prompted nastily.

"Oh, erm, I really admire your brewing skills."

He raised an eyebrow, a bored look crossing his face. "And?" he prompted again.

"Oh," Hermione huffed. "I was just paying you a compliment, you should learn how to be a little more gracious!" she scolded.

"If this is some sort of prank you and your dumb friends have cooked up, just know that I could hex you into oblivion." He snarled.

Hermione's hands flew to her hips and her foot began to tap of it's own accord. "First of all Severus Snape, my friends are not dumb. And secondly," she went on, her face flushed with irritation. "I was actually being kind to you. And lastly, I'm not doing it on my friend's orders; I wanted to talk to you myself because you look like you're in sore need of a friend."

"I don't need you as a friend." Snape spit out.

"Why?" Hermione snapped.

"Because you're friends with them," he growled, gesturing toward the corridor Lily had disappeared down.

"And?" she quoted him angrily.

"Do you really need another reason?" he hissed, his patience wearing out.

"No, I do not need another reason; I need a good reason."

"I don't want to be your friend." He said bluntly. "Not to mention that I'm no good for anyone. If Lily can't manage it, than how could you?"

Hermione sighed softly and dropped her hands from her hips. "I'm not Lily, Severus. I enjoy a wider range of company. Listen," she went on as she lowered her voice. "you need a friend, and I could use one that's not so damn cheerful and jovial all the time. I'll be at the top of the astronomy tower tonight around ten if you'd like someone to talk to."

"Why would I want to talk to you?" he asked, his resistance beginning to wean.

"I'm excellent at keeping secrets and I'm sure I already know half of yours – and I've not judged you yet. I'm a pretty safe bet."

"You don't know anything about me," he whispered, less sure of himself.

Hermione glanced around, making a show of checking if they were alone. "I know you're in love with Lily Evans," she whispered. "And not the kind of in-and-out 'love' that's bouncing around these halls. The true, deep in your soul, kind of love."

Severus paled noticeably but did not deny this.

Hermione smiled and touched his arm lightly. "Astronomy tower, ten 'o' clock." She reminded him, before turning and hurrying away.

Hermione sat with her legs dangling over the edge of the tower, her arms folded neatly over the railing that ran at her chest level, with her head resting against her folded arms. The view was, as always, spectacular. The lake shown silver in the moonlight, rippling as the abundant life in it swam about. The mountains in the distance stood sentinel over the scene like guards. She could see Hagrid's hut, dark but with smoke piping merrily from his chimney. The Forbidden Forest to her right swayed in the evening's chilly breeze, emitting the low sighs and eerie groans it was known for. Hermione sighed happily, Hogwarts would always be home – no matter the year.

She felt him approaching before she heard him and smiled to herself. "Hi, Severus," she called softly without turning around.

"I don't trust you," he said uneasily from the shadows.

Hermione turned slightly and gazed at the young Snape who hesitated on the stairwell. Very slowly she pulled out her wand.

"Homenum Revelio." She said quietly. There was a bright flash of light and Severus was momentarily outlined in a blue light.

"See?" she reassured him. "Just you and I."

Severus nodded slowly and edged his way into the room. He sat down on the floor about five feet away from Hermione and regarded her with an expectant gaze. Hermione smiled at him before turning her gaze back toward the grounds. After a moment she asked;

"How are you?"

He grunted a noncommittal reply and they lapsed back into silence.

"Don't you love the view?" she asked after a few minutes of silence.

"I didn't come to talk about the scenery," he muttered.

"Oh, but you should, I mean, Merlin, just look at it. It's so beautiful." She gushed patting the empty spot beside her and casting a glance at Severus.

With a sigh of defeat Severus scooted himself over beside Hermione, taking a similar stance, and turned his black eyes out onto the grounds.

"It's nice," he admitted after a moment.

"Indeed," she sighed.

"How did you know about Lily?" he asked her quietly.

Hermione shrugged. "I'm good at reading people."

"Like a seer? I always thought seer's were a load of rubbish. No one can know the future." Snape said harshly.

"Hmm," Hermione considered. "Perhaps. I do know, though, that after graduation you plan on taking the Dark Mark."

Snape gaped at her wordlessly.

"You shouldn't," she went on softly. "Your life will be miserable. People you care about will die. The Dark Lord shows no mercy." She paused and turned her head away from him. "To anyone."

"You don't understand," he said in a strangled voice.

"I do. More than you could possibly guess. You're alone and you think that joining forces with the Dark Lord will gain you acceptance." She turned her chocolate eyes back on him.

"Oh, you crave power too, of course, but it's acceptance you want more than anything. But I assure you, Severus," she went on, taking his hand in hers. "You will not find that in His Dark Army. You are a half blood any way you look at it and the all the Death Eaters will know this. You'll gain no friends."

"I,…" Severus paused. "I just want,"

"I know," Hermione said softly, releasing his hand and reaching behind him to rub slow circles on his back. "But you won't find it in the dark."

He shook his head. "I've already proclaimed my intentions."

Hermione sighed. "Then you should leave the country when you graduate."

"And go where? And with what money? You tout all these ideals about staying within the light, but where is the practicality in that? What will it get me in the end?" Snape nearly shouted with agitation.

Hermione place her hand on his chest gently. "This," she said simply.

Snape regarded her hand with a sneer. "And what is this?"

"Your soul." She whispered.

Snape visibly deflated. "They'll find me," he whispered, fear registering in his dark eyes.

"I can help you," Hermione told him. She was overcome with the urge to pull this young Snape into her arms and comfort him, but held back knowing it would make him uncomfortable. She cupped his face gently in her hands instead. "Let me help you,"

He was shaking. "How?" he murmured, leaning his face into her warm hands.

"I will secure you the financing and identity to disappear."

"Why?" he asked slowly. "Why are you helping me?"

Hermione smiled tenderly. "I have seen the future Severus, and this small act of kindness is the least you deserve. You are a hero, but at great – and deadly – personal cost to you. I am trying to spare you that pain."

"A hero?" he breathed.

Hermione chuckled and dropped her hands. "For the side of the Light. All the details of my vision are not clear." She lied, taking on his accusation of being a seer.

"What's in this for you?" he asked slowly.

Hermione smiled. "Peace." She answered cryptically. "And," she went on. "A new friend."

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips and he turned his face back to the spectacular view with a nod.

Hermione went directly to Dumbledore when she left the astronomy tower and was greeted by a cheerful, albeit sleepy, headmaster. She explained to him about Severus and pressed upon him the importance of hiding Severus away. With the assurance that Severus would have the full protection and financial backing of the Order behind him upon graduation, Hermione returned to her room and slept exceptionally soundly.

Halloween was approaching and still her time turner was not repaired. Dumbledore assured her that his friend was diligently working on it and that patience was, indeed, a virtue. She kept herself busy with schoolwork, pointless in her opinion as they'd covered most of the topics in her sixth year. Standards had apparently advanced since the seventies.

She met with Severus several nights a week, secretly, in the astronomy tower. He was much more relaxed around her, opening up about his life, and although he would not verbally commit to the Order's offer – Hermione had no doubt that he would take it. He would be safe and this gave her a great deal of peace in her heart.

Sirius continued his relentless pursuit of her to the chagrin of most of the female population in Hogwarts. Hermione tried very hard to keep him at arm's length, but he was sneaky and had managed to corner – and kiss- her several times. She was not angry with him, simply reiterated how much he would regret it in the future each time he stole a kiss from her.

Lupin, she assumed, wanted to tell her very much about his secret but seemed to be torn. She made sure to subtly show him as often as possible how trust worthy she was because she felt it would do him a world of good to open up to someone.

Lily and Hermione were very close and she ached to tell Lily the truth. She knew that it would be very hard for her when she figured out the truth twenty or so years from now. But she was so lonely, she couldn't bring herself to pull away from the kind red head. She also took solace in Lily's eyes that reminded her everyday of her best friend.

James treated her very kindly and included her in everything their group did but they did not have an especially close relationship. He seemed to be under the impression that Lily had claimed Hermione first and therefore he shouldn't get too close to the only female Lily confided in.

Sirius had been nagging her for the last week to go to the Halloween Ball with him. She wanted to decline, honestly, but he was driving her absolutely nutters with his omnipresent requests. They came in the form of owls, of flowers, of candies, of singing telegrams - once he even sent a howler so the whole hall could hear – of house elves, of charmed suits of armor, and, of course in his constant verbal nagging.

"FINE!" she bellowed outside the transfiguration classroom on a Friday afternoon. "I'll go to bloody ball with you if you JUST SHUT IT!"

James and Lupin were hollowing with laughter; the rest of the class were guffawing or sending her dirty looks. Sirius however looked very pleased with himself. He made a motion of sealing his lips and throwing away the key.

Keeping his promise, Sirius did not utter one syllable to anyone the rest of that day – not even the teachers – earning him a sound thump to the back of his head by Professor McGonagall when he wouldn't answer her questions.

He remained mum throughout dinner and although Hermione was very much enjoying the quiet she gave him permission to speak when the pudding was served.

He gave her a smile of thanks and took up a quiet conversation with James on Quiddich. He remained unobtrusive and cordial throughout the weekend, including their trip to Hogsmeade. When Hermione commented on his new behavior to Lily, she laughed and explained that Sirius was much easier to deal with when he got what he wanted. Hermione snorted; nothing much changed with him.

Hermione chose to dress as Rapunzel, transfiguring her bushy curls into impossibly long, sleek, golden ringlets. She chose to wear a renaissance styled dress in richly embroidered powder blue and gold. When she descended into the common room, she found Sirius looking dapper in his rich, albeit generic, price charming attire. She's had to explain, several times, the muggle story of Rapunzel before Sirius had grasped why the price didn't simply hop on a broom and fly up to the princess as he did in the wizard version: Wanda Willanthorn and the Three Dragons.

"You make a lovely princess, Hermione." He said, rising to his feet and tugging his jacket straight.

"Thank you, er," Hermione muttered, tugging at her heavy braid. "you look very nice too."

Sirius chucked and pointed his wand at her hair, casting a levitation charm on it and easing the tug on Hermione's skull.

She sighed. "Thank you, don't know why I didn't think of that."

With a smile, he offered his arm, and led her down to the great hall.

"Oho!" Dumbledore laughed upon seeing them. "I've never seen a lovelier Wanda Willanthorn, Miss Granger."

Hermione smiled and shook her head, not bothering to correct the headmaster.

"A word, Miss Granger, if you please, only a moment," he added, his blue eyes twinkling.

Hermione stepped away from Sirius and away a distance before gazing up at Dumbledore.

"Your magical apparatus is ready, Hermione dear. It's in my office, do come up whenever you're ready to return home. I'll keep track of it for you until then."

Hermione smiled. "I'll come now,"

"Oh, I think Mr. Black would be crushed. No, best to go to the ball first." Dumbledore babbled.

Hermione sighed and cast a glance over at Sirius before nodding. "Alright, I'll be up after the ball."

"Oho!" Dumbledore said, clapping his hands together. "It's just like that muggle story…oh what's the name of it now…"

"Cinderella." Hermione supplied.

"Yes. At the stroke of midnight – POOF! Though I dare say, Miss Granger, you've no time limit. Enjoy the evening as you see fit, perhaps, first thing in the morning would be best,"

Hermione shrugged. "We'll see. And I'll see you later, Professor."

She joined Sirius again and promised to explain to him later, they entered the great hall.

At midnight, Hermione dragged Sirius off the dance floor and told him it was of the utmost importance that he gather Lily, James, and Remus and meet her in the room of requirement in fifteen minutes. She refused to reveal anything else and sent him on his way to fetch his friends. Quickly, Hermione descended into the dungeons and went directly to the portrait that concealed the Slytherin common room. The subject eyed her with obvious distaste.

"Password?" it demanded.

"I just need Severus Snape," she pleaded. "If you could just tell him that his friend Hermione needs him,"

"I am not an owl." The portrait snapped.

"Please, it's a matter of life and death!"

He glared at her for a moment before marching off. After a minute, Severus flung the portrait hole open and clambered out quickly.

"Hermione! Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes," she said absently as she dragged him into a dark niche.

"What's going," he began, looking utterly bewildered.

"Just listen to me," Hermione spoke rapidly. "I have to go away now, Sev. It's very possible that you may never see me again." She held her hand up when he began to protest. "I need your word that you will do as Dumbledore tells you upon your graduation, that you will adhere to the protections and enchantments that the Order gives to you, and that you will keep yourself safe and in the light."

"Hermione, I don't under,"

"Your word!" she shouted.

"My word. Of course, you have it. What's going on though?"

Hermione shook her head lightly. "I can't tell you yet. But listen to me," she went on, grasping his hands tightly. "I care about you. I believe in you. I accept you. You are my friend and I love you. Remember that and you will never, ever, be alone." She reached up and snapped the chain around her neck that a small golden 'H' dangled from and pressed it urgently into his hands, kissing his fingers as she closed them around it. She pressed a sweet kiss to each of his cheeks, then a fleeting one on his lips, before backing away – tears swimming in her vision.

"Don't you ever forget that!" she cried hoarsely, before turning and running blindly up the stairs.

She knew that he would not follow.

Hermione took her time climbing to the sixth floor. She was dreading saying goodbye to her friends, and thought more than once about forgoing the farewells and slipping away quietly. She knew that she owed them, this motley group who had accepted without question, some semblance of the truth. And so with a heavy heart and wet eyes, she entered the room of requirement to find her friends in a highly agitated state.

Lily was perched on the edge of the couch looking terrified, James at her side with whispered reassurances. Sirius paced back and forth angrily in front of the fireplace and Lupin was leaning against the mantel looking thoughtful.

"Hermione!" Sirius rushed forward and gathered her into his arms. "What's the matter? Are you ill?"

"Hermione?" Lily said quietly, half standing, reaching out a pale arm towards her.

Hermione pulled herself out of Sirius' arms and forced a smile onto her face.

"Guys," she began with a sniffle. "I have to go away for awhile."

"Oh," Lily said slowly.

"When will you be back, then?" James asked casually.

Hermione hesitated for a second. "I won't."

Lily sucked in a gasp and Sirius let out a sound that was a moan mingled with a sigh and sank down into the nearest chair.

"Where are you going?" Sirius asked tightly.

"I," Hermione bit her lip. "I haven't been completely honest with you. I'm not exactly who you think I am."

"Why don't you start at the beginning?" Lupin said, pushing away from the mantle and walking towards the group.

"I can't tell you everything and you'll have to accept that. But I want to tell you as much as I can,"

"Does this have to do with Voldemort?" Sirius asked, scrubbing his face with his hands.

"Yes," Hermione whispered, watching James wrap his arm tightly around Lily. "I used a time turner to get here. I'm not actually from this time."

Sirius gaped at her.

"I'm from the future," she added. "Gods, that sounds like a bad line from a movie." she muttered.

"How…how far in the future?" Lupin asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Two…two-thousand and three. Twenty-seven years." she stuttered.

Lily turned an alarming shade of green.

"I'm sorry." Hermione whispered. "I came to set something right, something that brought Voldemort to the pinnacle of his power. And I, I think I've fixed it. You all should be safe now."

"Safe?" James hissed. "Were we not safe in your time?"

"I,..I can't tell you that. All I can tell you is that I think I've reversed as much as I can to keep you safe. But,…" she whispered, her tears falling, she turned to Sirius.

"You need to watch your cousin Bellatrix carefully. Do not ever let yourself be alone with her, do you understand me?" she whispered fiercely.

"Bella,.." he murmured.

"Promise me, you'll stay away from her!" she demanded, falling to her knees before him and taking his face in her hands.

Sirius closed his eyes and leaned into her hand. "I promise," he breathed.

"I'm sorry I can't tell you more. But if what I've done works, you will each have a wonderful and full future."

"Tell me, Hermione," Lupin asked casually. "Do they cure lycanism in the future?"

Hermione grinned and flung herself into his arms. "You admitted it to me!" she cried.

"I was planning on telling you, you silly girl," Lupin laughed. "But I've just realized you must already know." Hermione laughed into his chest.

"Well," James cut in. "Do they?"

"No," Hermione said soberly. "But the Wolfs bane Potion will be vastly improved."

"I have a feeling we're very good friends in the future." Lupin said, squeezing her gently.

"You are correct." she laughed.

"Do I have a place in your future?" Sirius asked quietly.

"I help you escape after you break out of Azkaban." Hermione said casually.

"What?" Sirius roared.

"Oh yes," Hermione said, turning to address the room. "This I will tell you. Peter Pettigrew will join the Death Eaters and betray all of you. His betrayal may have deadly consequences."

"That little rat!" James snarled and Sirius was instantly on his feet.

"I'll kill him myself!" Sirius spat.

"No," Hermione said soothingly. "What I've done here should also correct that. But I wouldn't keep him too close if I were you. I really do have to go now."

Lily sprang to her feet and slammed into Hermione, hugging her tightly.

"I will look for you in the future."

Hermione nodded.

James gave her a light squeeze. "You fit in with us, Hermione, that was enough,"

James helped a sobbing Lily from the room.

"Until we meet again," Lupin said, bowing.

Hermione curtsied. "Until we meet again."

He kissed her cheek and left.

Hermione turned to Sirius.

"If I see you again, will you remember me?" he asked, staring into the fire.

"I honestly don't know. I want to believe I will."

He nodded and turned towards her quickly, pulling her into the fiercest kiss of their short time together. She gasped and shivered against his taunt body, allowing his hands to roam her body freely. When they broke apart they were both panting.

"You are really going to regret that," she laughed between gasps.

Sirius smiled. "You're always saying that. Are we related in the future or something?"

"Nearly," Hermione giggled.

"Oho," Sirius laughed. He turned serious. "I'll wait for you,"

"No," Hermione touched his lips tenderly. "Don't wait for me. For all we know I could have winked myself out of existence with my time here. If you find happiness, Sirius, grab it and hold on tightly."

"I don't want to go somewhere you're not." he said fiercely.

"You'll do just fine. There are a great number of people who will be depending on you."

"Hermione," he moaned.

"It's alright. It's alright." she cooed, disentangling herself from him and moving toward the fire.

_I need to get to Dumbledore's office and I need Sirius not to be able to follow_, she thought to the room.

A pot of floo powder appeared, and then she was gone - Sirius kneeling at the grate alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione landed with a sickening crunch at the boulder she'd been hiding behind. The body of Minerva was absent, as were both Harry and Ron, and she slowly peered over the massive rock she crouched behind. The lawns were pristine emerald green – no bodies and no blood. She stood slowly and gazed around. The grounds of Hogwarts were as beautiful as ever, shimmering slightly, in the fading twilight. She took a few measured steps away from her hiding place, her wand at the read just in case. But no curses came.

Hermione straightened up and began to walk quickly around the back of the castle; she had to see. As she came around the edge of a tower and the lake came into view, she held her breath. She nearly fell to her knees when she saw a white marble tomb no longer interrupted the landscape. She took a few steadying breaths, touching the castle wall for support, and slowly continued her way towards the entrance.

Fear bubbled in her stomach as she contemplated her fate. Dumbledore was not dead, which was wonderful – yes – but she had a distinct memory of his death. Nothing more. This new future, she realized with mounting horror, would make no sense to her what so ever. And though she had technically lived through it, as she was currently here, she would not remember the last seventeen years for what they actually were. She would be trapped inside her head, left with memories that were not real. She shuddered.

Hermione came to the front steps and she mounted them slowly, sadness dulling her reflexes. Creaking the door open, she peeped her head in. If she'd used her time turner correctly, it would be June the first, two thousand and three – the end of her sixth year at Hogwarts.

"Oho," Dumbledore greeted her with an awed smile. "Have you returned to us, my dear?"

"I," Hermione hedged, glancing around the entrance hall and seeing nothing much had changed. "Er, what's the date today, Professor?"

Dumbledore smiled. "June the first, dear, two thousand and three."

Hermione let out a tiny sigh. "Nothing is how I remember it," she commented, moving forward toward her professor.

"No, my dear, I am afraid it is not." He said sadly. "Perhaps, it would be best that you come straight to my office. I'll have your supper brought up to you."

Hermione nodded and followed Dumbledore mutely.

When she was settled, an untouched plate of fish and chips before her, Dumbledore wove his fingers beneath his chin and waited.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, not wasting any time.

"In existence at Hogwarts." Dumbledore confirmed.

"Ron?"

"Also here." Dumbledore said after a beat. "In fact, dear Hermione, I would dare say nearly everyone you knew is in existence."

"Good," she said, noticing the odd look Dumbledore was giving her. "What?" she asked.

"My child, perhaps you should look into a mirror," Dumbledore hinted, pointing his wand and manifesting a mirror in her hands.

"Oh," Hermione breathed in confusion. "Oh, oh, oh!" she cried, touching her face.

Gone was the bushy brown mop of curls, replaced with bone straight, shiny mahogany locks. Gone were her familiar chocolate eyes; odd amber colored iris' now stared back at her. Her bone structure remained nearly the same, though her nose looked a shade more petite. Focusing for a moment on her neck, her blood froze. Her hand flew up to the school tie she wore – no longer scarlet and gold, but blue and silver.

"Ravenclaw," she breathed, turning her foreign eyes on the headmaster.

He nodded once.

"Harry?" she asked in a whisper.

"Gryffindor," Dumbledore confirmed.

"Ron?" she asked with mounting terror.

"Hufflepuff," he said softly.

"Oh," she breathed. "My hair and, and my eyes – I don't understand."

Dumbledore looked distinctly sad. "I'd venture a guess that there is a possibility that you may have a different parent or parents,"

"Wait," she said, lowering the mirror. "what's my name?"

"Hermione Granger," he confirmed. "Only daughter of Roger and Kelly Granger."

"Who the hell is Kelly Granger?" Hermione roared.

"Your mother," Dumbledore whispered.

Hermione hung her head. She now had a mother that she didn't have even one memory of. Her heart nearly split in two – she wanted her mother. Or, at least, the mother she knew. She took a steadying breath.

"Do I even know Harry or Ron?" she asked very slowly, her hands shaking.

"Only in passing," Dumbledore said sadly.

Hermione looked away as the first tear coursed down her cheek.

"You did a very noble service, Hermione, at great personal cost to yourself."

She sniffed. "It worked then?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said proudly. "I've been collecting the horcruxs as you instructed. They're put safely away."

"You didn't destroy them?"

"I've no way to do so yet."

"But the chamber of secrets, the basilisk,…" Hermione breathed, her sadness welling deeper.

"The chamber was never opened, Hermione." Dumbledore said softly.

"But Harry," she tried again.

"Cannot speak Parseltongue."

Hermione sat back and turned her head away. Nothing was as she remembered it. She had absolutely no ties to this time. She was numb.

"What do we do?" she murmured, pressing her hand to her mouth to muffle the sobs tearing up her throat.

"We speak with Remus," Dumbledore said matter-of-factly.

"Lupin?" Hermione choked out. "Will he remember me?"

Dumbledore smiled. "I dare say he will. You made quite an impression on him. He's now employed by the Ministry in the Department of Mysteries. He's an unspeakable, though I can tell you, he's studying time turners. More so, the effects of long distance time travel."

Hermione snorted. "Of course he is. How are the rest? Lily, James, Sirius, Peter, Severus?" she ticked off.

"Ah," Dumbledore sighed, sitting back. "Lily is a healer at St. Mungo's and James is the head of the Department of Magical Games and Tournaments. They are of course Harry's parents."

Hermione smiled. "At least Harry's happy."

"He is, indeed." Dumbledore agreed. "Peter Pettigrew is dead. Voldemort tired of his services. Sirius, well Sirius, is no longer in the country. He's in Bulgaria actually. Teaches Defense at Durmstrang, I believe. Didn't take your absence well, and left directly after graduation."

Hermione looked horrified.

"Tut tut," Dumbledore chided. "Not your fault at all. Severus," he went on, changing the subject. "is doing exceptionally well. Lives in Greece, just outside Athens, and runs an apothecary. He goes by the name Nicolas Herodotus under his cover there. Nico, for short."

Hermione rubbed her temples. There was too much information to take in, too much pain all at once. She wanted to run away and never return – to snatch the time turner into her hand and disappear.

"Professor," Hermione began, not bothering to open her eyes. "May I sit for my NEWTS this year? I have no desire to return to Hogwarts next year."

Dumbledore sighed. "While it saddens me to see your pain, it is the very least we can do for you. It will be arranged."

Hermione nodded, still rubbing her temples. A knock on the office door interrupted her thoughts and she glanced up absently when it opened.

"You sent for us, Professor Dumbledore?" a familiar voice asked.

Hermione froze, her lips forming a perfect 'o', and her heart hammering away in her chest.

"Indeed I did," Dumbledore said motioning to an empty love seat.

Harry Potter, followed by Ron Weasley, ambled into the room and flopped down on the small soft. Ron was glancing around in fear and Harry just looked confused.

"It is with a heavy heart that I've asked you two to come." Dumbledore said, sitting forward. "Let me first ask, though, are you familiar with this lovely young lady to my left?"

Harry's searing green eyes flicked toward her. "Er, Hermione, is it?"

Hermione felt her chest constrict painfully and she nodded.

Dumbledore looked pleased. "Indeed. Hermione Granger. Miss Granger knows you and Mr. Weasley very well."

Harry looked very confused. "Sir?"

"Miss Granger has just arrived back from a stint of time traveling and her forays in the past have caused this present to become completely unfamiliar to her. She has effectively rewritten history."

Ron sat forward. "I don't follow."

"Miss Granger intervened with fate on your behalf Mr. Potter. She not only saved your life, your parent's lives, your Godfather's life, Mr. Weasley here, my own, and countless others – but she holds the secret to destroying Voldemort once and for all."

Harry looked very pale. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"The three of you were best friends, absolutely inseparable, dependent on each other before Hermione traveled back in time."

"I, I, I'm sorry." Harry said slowly. "I don't know, I mean, I don't remember,"

"It's alright," Hermione said, finding her voice and sitting forward. "I'm just so happy you're safe. Both of you."

Ron knitted his brows together. "Sometimes I have these dreams," he started, reddening slightly. "and Harry's there, and a girl who sort of looks like you – but different. We do all these crazy sort of things," he trailed off. "Like helping a criminal escape or flying around on hippogriff's,"

"Sirius," Hermione breathed.

"Yeah," Harry said slowly. "I have those odd sort of dreams too,"

Hermione looked at Dumbledore helplessly; he was staring thoughtfully at Harry and Ron.

"Those are not dreams," Dumbledore said finally. "You're experiencing the effects of parallel realities."

"What?" Ron asked, looking scared.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, ignoring Ron and levitating a pensive to his desk. "If you would place into this one of the most vivid memories you have of your friends,"

Hermione rose, thought a moment, then extracted the last time she'd been with Ron and Harry. She concentrated on it for a long time, dredging up the most minute details – the sounds of spells flying past, the smell of wet grass and blood, the papery texture of Professor McGonagall's skin, even the pressure of their lips on hers – before drawing it out and depositing it into the pensive. Dumbledore motioned Harry and Ron forward then looked at Hermione.

"May I? Do you mind?"

"By all means," she answered.

Dumbledore nodded and addressed the boys beside. "On the count of three then. One, two, three,"

Hermione watched as the three people dipped their faces into the swirling silver of the pensive. She flopped back into her chair and waited, holding her breath, for their return.

Dumbledore returned first, looking considerably shaken. Ron followed, then Harry.

"Your hair," Harry whispered.

"Your eyes," Ron added.

Hermione nodded. "Apparently, this time around I have a different mother."

Harry nodded, and using the desk for support, made his way back to the loveseat. Ron remained standing.

"That memory was so," he started slowly, looking for the right words.

"Sad," Harry breathed.

Ron nodded. "But we," he said, nodding at Harry. "We really loved you. I mean, really, truly, deeply, we loved you. And you loved us. I don't have a friend like that now," he mused.

"My mum," Harry cut in. "Mentions someone by the name Hermione every now and again to my dad and I've seen that name in the letters from my godfather. Are you one and the same?"

Hermione breathed a deep sigh of relief – someone remembered her! "Yes," she confirmed.

"Wait," Ron cut in. "So you're saying that we were friends first, then you went back in time and befriended his parents, and that changed the course of _our_ history?"

Hermione smiled a watery smile. "Exactly. I mean, I'm sad, achingly so, that you don't remember me while I have so much love for the both of you in my heart. But,…but it's better this way. Because in the old way Harry's parents were dead, so was Sirius, and Lupin, and Dumbledore, and McGonagall. So, yes, I'm destroyed that you can't remember the bonds we shared – but it is better this way."

"What do we do now?" Harry asked quietly. "I _want_ to remember that reality." He touched the center of his chest. "Seeing that memory makes me feel empty here. It's like my body _knows_ that I care for you. For both of you, but my mind can't remember it."

Hermione smiled. "Frustrating, isn't it?"

The corners of Harry's lips turned up slightly.

"What you're all experiencing are the symptoms of a parallel existence. It's a highly dangerous condition; it can drive someone mad if it's not all sorted out properly. I've sent for Remus Lupin, the foremost authority on the subject. I've no doubt he'll set it straight. He'll be here first thing in the morning. I'll have Poppy dispense each of you a draught of dreamless sleep in the meantime. We don't want you to think too much on it tonight. Off you go,"

Harry and Ron rose and hesitated briefly. With a torn look at Hermione, Ron hurried out of the room. Harry crossed the space between them and drew her into his arms. She let out and strangled sob and leaned into him, savoring the familiar feeling of his embrace. He tightened his arms around her and sighed into her hair.

"It'll be ok," he promised quietly, before releasing her and leaving the room without another word.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore said evenly. "It's been a long evening, perhaps you would prefer to stay in the hospital wing tonight?"

Hermione smiled. "I've one more thing I need to do," she said quietly. "Is your chimney part of the floo network, and are the Potter's connected?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Oho, yes, my dear. But of course you should pay a visit."

Hermione stumbled out of the grate, glanced up at the unsure face of James Potter, and flung herself into his arms.

"Ugh," he choked out in surprise while trying to extricate himself from the clinging brunette. "See here," he muttered, pushing her gently away. He paused. "Do...do I know you?"

Hermione smiled brilliantly. "Come on, Prongs, you can do better than that."

Recognition dawned across his face. "Hermione," he breathed. "You've caught up with time. LILY!" he bellowed.

"Do you really have to scream, I was just in the, oh. Oh! Oh, oh, oh! Hermione!" Lily cried, flying across the room and pulling her into a bone-crushing hug. "OH!" she sobbed happily against her shoulder. "You're safe. We've been waiting so long. You look different," she added holding her at arms length before embracing her again.

Hermione was laughing. "You look wonderful! You both do!"

"We look older," James corrected her with a grin.

"You lucky little tart, you've been seventeen for twenty-seven years." Lily teased her.

"Sort of," Hermione laughed.

Lily lead her to the sofa and pushed her down, settling in next to her.

"When did you, er, catch up?" James asked, sitting himself in the overstuffed chair opposite them.

"A few hours ago. It's been,…difficult." Hermione admitted.

"Can you tell us anything now?" Lily asked with genuine interest, squeezing Hermione's hands lightly.

"It's probably best that I don't just yet. I will though as soon as Remus sorts it all out. Something about parallel realities and all that,"

James nodded. "Of course. Remus took a real shine to time travel after we graduated. I wonder why," he chuckled.

"I haven't the foggiest." Hermione giggled.

"Hermione," Lily started quietly, looking down at their intertwined hands. "I've had awhile to think over the little bit you told us before, and I was just piecing together dates and all,"

"Yes," Hermione answered her before she could ask. "It all had to do with Harry. And I do promise to tell you after I speak with Remus."

Lily nodded tightly, raising her glassy eyes to Hermione's face. "Was he, er, I mean, did you,"

Hermione grasped Lily's hands firmly. "He was alive when I left, though I don't know if he would have stayed that way. I left in the middle of a massive battle."

"You saved him," James said quietly, placing his hand gently on her shoulder.

She shrugged. "There are a lot of people now that weren't here when I left," she said carefully. "But enough about all this for now – tell me about Sirius."

James' eyes narrowed and he sat back in his chair with a huff. He crossed his arms across his chest and set his jaw stubbornly. "I don't know who you're talking about."

Hermione knit her brows together and glanced over at Lily.

Lily rolled her eyes. "Sirius took off right after graduation. We occasionally get letters but he hasn't come back since. He's teaching at Durmstrang."

Hermione bit her lip and glanced at James, then back at Lily. "Is there anyway to meet with him?"

Lily shook her head. "No one knows where Durmstrang is. You can try to owl him, but I'm not sure any of my owls actually find him. His letters, when they come, have nothing to do with what I've written him."

Hermione grimaced and wondered if she'd ever met Viktor Krum in this reality. She doubted it.

They spoke awhile longer before, yawning, Hermione bid them good night and promised to visit again very soon. She went directly to the Madam Pomfrey and took the potion she offered, finding sleep a welcome relief.

Remus arrived at Hogwarts in a high state of agitation. Dumbledore had summoned him the night before, giving no indication as to why he sought an audience with him. He was a busy man and he had much research that needed to be compiled before Hermione…Remus froze. Was she back? Had she arrived? Remus had given Dumbledore explicit instructions summon him immediately upon her return before she spoke to anyone. Had the batty old codger allowed her to see anyone? Had he allowed her to spill her secrets?

Merlin, this could be disastrous! He sped up.

Hermione was pacing in front of Dumbledore's fireplace when Remus slammed into the room. They both stopped short upon seeing each other and it was Hermione that moved first – flinging herself into his arms with absolute abandon. He held her tightly to his chest, stroking her silky locks and murmuring her name over and over. Hermione lost herself to sobs and she held tightly to her friend as they shook her petite frame.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"No," she wailed. "It's terrible! No one remembers me and I have no real memory of the last seventeen years. Look at me! I even have a different mother!"

"I'm so sorry, my love, I'm so sorry." He whispered.

When they finally broke apart, they saw that Dumbledore had brought Harry and Ron quietly in.

"Albus," Remus breathed, eyeing the two boys warily. "What have you done?"

"These boys have physical memories of Hermione. They're bodies remember her and they dream about the way it could have been," Dumbledore explained softly.

"Parallel realities," Remus murmured.

Albus nodded. "I've shown them one of Hermione's memories to confirm the physical memory. It's stronger than I feared. Do you think you can help?"

Remus gaped. "This is all theory," he said slowly. "There's never been a documented case in history. This is completely unique."

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed.

"I'll need some time to prepare; to gather as much theoretical research as I can on this phenomenon. Until then, to be safe, I'd like to block off the memories Harry and Ron have."

"Of course," Dumbledore agreed again.

"I don't _want_ to forget her." Ron said fiercely and Harry nodded in agreement.

"No, of course not," Remus said slowly. "We just have to figure out how to bring it about safely with the least amount of damage. I need a week, maybe two, to find a method. In the meantime, I don't want you to dwell on a parallel past; it's dangerous."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Do I have your word that you will restore my memory of Hermione?"

Remus nodded slowly. "Yes, Harry, you have my word that I will do my best to find a way to safely merge your parallels."

"And if you don't?" Harry pressed.

"Then we must come up with the best possible alternative for everyone involved." Hermione said evenly.

"You're wording yourself very carefully," Ron observed and Hermione smiled.

"I did not go through all this hell to hurt you in the end. I did it so that you would be safe and happy. I'm not going to let anything, including myself, compromise that. So if you do love me, if you _feel_ that you love me – do what Remus tells you to."

Harry scowled darkly but nodded his ascent.

"Good," Hermione beamed. "I've got a few things to take care of now, so I'll step out before you box in their memories so they're not confused."

"Where are you going?" Remus asked, withdrawing his wand and approaching Harry slowly.

Hermione smiled. "To Bulgaria of course,"

Remus chuckled. "Of course. I'll fetch you when I'm ready for you."

Hermione nodded, kissed the cheek of all four men, and slipped out of the office.

Once outside the gates of Hogwarts, Hermione considered the long distance it would be to apparate to Bulgaria. She decided to apparate halfway first and have a little stop off to rest. In Greece of course.

Severus, as Nicolas Herodotus, was not difficult to find once Hermione located Helena Isle, the Greek equivalent of Diagon Alley.

She eased into his bustling shop quietly, browsing the back shelves absently and stealing glances toward the front of the shop where a tall, tanned man was waiting on customers with a big grin. Hermione had a hard time processing how different Severus looked from when he was seventeen to now and blending it with her memories of him as an adult.

He was tall and very muscled, a fitted t-shirt stretched taunt across his vast chest. There was no hint of pallor in his browned skin now and his previously lank hair was lustrous and cut into a flattering shaggy style. His nose was no longer hooked, nor crooked, but stock straight in a Roman proportion. There was no mistaking his eyes though, back as ink.

As the lines died down, Hermione began to inch forward and she could hear him now talking to an old witch at the counter, his silky baritone laced with a new accent was music to her ears.

"Καλό απόγευμα, πώς μπορώ να σας βοηθήσω;" a young man said to Hermione's left.

"Um,…English?" Hermione asked hopefully.

The teen smiled. "Good afternoon, how can I help you?" he repeated in a thick accent.

"Oh, I'm looking for Nicolas."

The boy smiled. "But of course, all the pretty women look for him. This way,"

He led her to the counter and left her there. Severus, after finishing his conversation and bidding the old woman a good day, turned his dark eyes on Hermione. He cocked his head questioningly.

"Have we met?" he purred.

Hermione nodded mutely, mesmerized by his eyes.

"Forgive me, my dear, but I cannot place you - though I know I must know you," he murmured as he studied her face.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Hermione reached her fingers up and tapped the small golden 'H' that hung around his neck.

Severus gasped and yanked her quickly behind the counter.

"When did you…? How did you…? Where were…?" Severus fired off half articulated questions as he paced the back room where he had dragged her.

"Sev," she pleaded. "Sit down."

"You promised," he spat as he dropped into the opposite seat. "that you would always be there for me. Where were you?"

"I used a time turner to get back to your time." She said bluntly. "This is my time now."

"Who sent you back in time and why? It's dangerous,"

"Professor McGonagall sent me back. There was a war, everyone was dying and I had fix it."

"What did you change?" he asked, his face a mask of fear.

"You,"

"I caused a war?" he whispered.

Hermione thought for a moment. "In my history you had done a terrible thing, something that was directly responsible for the deaths of James Potter and Lily Evans. Something that brought Voldemort to the apex of his power. However," she went on, squeezing his hands. "You did not know what you were doing. And as soon as you found out that the Dark Lord had used you – you spent the rest of your life atoning for your sins as a double agent. You were a good man, you just needed a friend."

"You traveled back, decades, to be my friend?" he asked thickly.

She smiled. "When I left my time, I didn't have a plan. I literally left from a battlefield and you were already dead. I made it up as I went along. I saw you in the corridor and I knew – _knew _– that you were a good person; that you just needed someone to believe in you. It wasn't a lie, or a job; we both needed someone.

And as time went on I grew to love you and trust you as I would any other friend. It was all real. And I still love you. I still want you in my life."

Severus hung his head. "You always have my heart." He whispered.

"Good, because my life is in shambles. Time travel destroyed everything I know and I have nothing. Remus is trying to sort it all out."

"Remus Lupin – the werewolf?" Severus asked incredulously.

Hermione shot him a dirty look. "Remus, _my friend_, specializes in time travel in the Department of Mysteries."

Severus smirked. "But of course," he allowed.

"Anyway, I may not have anywhere to go when all is said and done,"

"All that is mine, is yours." Severus vowed.

Hermione snorted. "I may take you up on that. Hey, do you know where Durmstrang is, by the way?"

"What do you want with that school?" he asked suspiciously.

"Just rounding up old friends."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "I hear that it is near Borovichene in Bulgaria; near the borders of Macedonia, Greece, and Bulgaria. There is, as rumor has it, a small wizarding town there called Petrich, but it is not a town one goes to alone. In fact, if I were you, I would avoid it all together. Anyone you knew that resides there now, well Hermione, they're not worth knowing anymore."

Hermione smiled and rose. "I am particularly fond of this one."

Severus stood and she drew him into her arms. "I will not be gone long this time. I will see you again soon, Sev."

He snorted against her hair before pulling away and gazing down at her. "Will you be alright? I can accompany you if you like."

"I'm pretty good at blending in, I'll be fine, I promise."

After a few more hugs and murmured assurances, Hermione was on her way.

Upon landing, Hermione gazed around her surroundings and grimaced. The terrain was rough, jagged, threatening. It made her uneasy and she shivered despite the high temperature.

She was in the right area though, she was sure of it, as she could feel the almost imperceptible hum of magic in the air.

She began walking north, stopping every few yards to confirm that the hum was getting stronger. After twenty minutes of walking, and tripping through the stony terrain, Hermione rounded a large boulder and the small town of Petrich materialized before her.

Severus was right, the town looked as if no respectable witch or wizard would frequent it, let alone call it home.

Tightening her fingers around her wand at her side, Hermione continued forward with a purposeful stride.

The town was set into the canyon between two colossal mountains, the stores and buildings carved directly into the mountainside. The path between the two sides was extremely narrow, maybe six feet across. Hermione felt as if she were being swallowed alive.

It was dark, even as the afternoon sun sat high in the sky, and Hermione had to light her wand to make her way along. She passed people huddled in doorsteps and narrow fissures of rock, swaddled in rags and glaring malevolently up at her.

Unease tightened in her belly and she darted into the first tavern she saw, identified by the crudely painted sign depicting a mug of ale.

Several oil lanterns, casting all the occupants in deep shadow, lit the inside of the tavern dimly. She approached the bar quickly, avoiding touching any of the filthy tables or chairs on her way.

She reached the bar, hewn from stone, and leveled her gaze of the grimy barkeep.

"Excuse me," she said, keeping her voice low.

He raised a shaggy eyebrow at her and tossed the towel he held over his shoulder.

"You're not from around here," he croaked.

"No," Hermione agreed, thankful. "I'm here looking for someone,"

"Can't no good come from that," the keep muttered darkly.

"Sirius Black, do you know him?"

"Mayhap," the crusty old man said carefully. "What for you looking for him?"

"He's an old friend," Hermione said evasively.

"Black ain't got no friends good for nothing," the keep said suspiciously.

"I haven't seen him in over a quarter century. I'd very much like to see him now," Hermione explained.

"Ain't no way you's a day over eighteen,"

"I look good for my age, I assure you."

"I don't want no trouble in my bar, you hear? I don't need none 'o' Black's jilted lovers tearing up my bar no more. You best move on,"

"I need to see him, Sir. It is of the utmost importance." She pressed.

He regarded her for a moment before hooking his thumb over his shoulder. "He's back there, if you make an ounce of trouble for me, I'll throw ya out myself – lady or not, ya hear?"

"Absolutely," Hermione agreed, already hurrying toward the lone figure at a table in the back.

His back was toward her as he was hunched over a small, rickety looking, table with a stein of ale in one hand and an open bottle of fire whiskey before him, two thirds gone. He held his head propped up by his hand.

She came around to stand beside him, and was surprised to see a full, though short, beard covered his prominent jaw, and his usual shaggy cut had grown past his shoulders, dreaded, and was pulled sloppily together at the nape of his neck. He was dirty, smelled of sweat and whiskey, and was clothed in a loose fitting gray tunic and heavy black pants.

He glanced up at her; no recognition is his whiskey glazed, storm colored eyes. "What?" he growled.

"Oh," Hermione breathed, pulling out a chair and sitting beside him. "Hello, Sirius."

"Who are you?" he snarled, setting up and downing another shot.

Hermione studied his face, sadness filling her at his ravished condition. "Oh Sirius," she whispered. "What happened to you?"

He turned his eyes on her and studied her altered face. "Who are you?" he repeated less harshly.

She smiled sadly, and extended her arm as if she would caress his face, but withdrew her fingers at the last moment. "Sirius," she whispered. "You know me, come on, think,"

He shook his head slowly from side to side. "No." he said firmly. "I haven't the foggiest bloody idea who you are. You should go. Now. I'm not in the mood for fucking games."

"Sirius, it's _me_, Hermione," she almost yelled.

He paused, holding the shot glass midway between the table and his lips, and turned slowly towards her. His eyes narrowed.

"That's a sick fucking joke," he breathed, deadly. "Who put you up to this?"

"Sirius!" Hermione cried. "I know I look a little different, but come on,"

He dropped the shot glass on the table, splashing Hermione and himself with the amber liquid. In a flash his was on his feet, and he reached down and flipped the table from between them, earning a scream from Hermione. He grabbed her roughly by her shoulders, his fingers biting painfully into her flesh, and shook her.

"I don't know who you are but you are not Hermione," he roared.

"Let,…let go! You're hurting me!" she cried.

He released her, pushing her away from himself and strode out the front door. Hermione leapt to her feet, ignoring the bar keep's curses, and hurried after him. She was a few feet behind him when she yelled, "I can prove it!"

He didn't pause, just kept his pace without glancing back.

"I told you that you would regret it; kissing me!" she cried breathlessly as he was taking a sharp right turn through the carved out town. He stopped abruptly and whirled around.

"What did you say?" he demanded, as Hermione collided with him, unprepared for his abrupt halt.

"Oomft," she mumbled into his chest, before pulling back. "I said," she snapped. "I told you would regret it, you big dumb cod!"

He blinked a few times, glanced away then back. "My Hermione had light brown hair and big brown eyes,"

"Yeah," she said sarcastically. "That's how I remember myself too. Imagine my surprise when I got around to looking in a mirror. I've got a different mum this time around."

Sirius let out a small gasp and fell to his knees. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pressed his face against her stomach, and sobbed.


	3. Chapter 3

After Hermione had comforted him awhile, gingerly stroking his hair, he had finally pulled himself together and demanded that she stay with him at the Durmstrang castle. She'd hesitantly agreed, denying him first before giving into his pathetic pleas. She remembered what Lily had told her; Sirius was much easier to handle if he got his way.

First though, she insisted he shower, shave, and let her do something to his bohemian head. He took her back to his chambers in the school, which turned out to be inside the mountain, and she began cleaning his scummy room while he showered.

When he sauntered out and in another drab uniform, his room – though still dreary and dark – was fresh and clean. He smiled and settled himself on a stool, handing a pair of shears to Hermione.

"Do your worst, love."

Hermione found that using a detangling charm allowed her to untwist the horrendous dreadlocks that were, no doubt, the result of a lack of proper hygiene. Un-dreaded it reached past his shoulder blades and Hermione noted a few strands of silver beginning to show. She wasted no time chopping it to his chin. When she moved around in front of him, tugging on both sides to make sure she'd cut it evenly, he turned his head and pressed a kiss to her wrist.

"I don't regret it, Hermione." He whispered and her pulse kicked into overdrive.

"Yeah," she managed. "I guess it could have been worse."

He chuckled, the sound was all velvet, and reached up to cup her face. Hermione swallowed loudly and licked her lips.

"Er, Sirius," she breathed. "I'm still seventeen; you understand that right?"

Sirius sat back, dropping his hand. "Ah, yes, so you are. I'm forty-four, Hermione – that's a pretty big difference."

"Twenty-seven years," Hermione whispered. "I'll be eighteen in three and a half months."

"Indeed?" Sirius said lightly. He clearly wasn't going to pursue it without her permission.

"As for now, though," she said, setting the shears aside. "I don't think one kiss would be morally reprehensible."

Sirius smirked. "You don't, do you?"

Hermione shook her head and leaned down toward him, stopping inches from his face. "Unless, of course, you don't _want _to kiss me." She murmured.

"Blasphemy," he whispered before pressing his lips to hers.

The pressure of his lips against her kicked her heart into hyper drive and she wound her hands tightly into his freshly trimmed hair. Sirius returned the favor, weaving his fingers into her silky tresses and giving a soft tug – earning a low moan from Hermione. He growled in return, standing up suddenly, and pulling Hermione up into his arms. He pushed her against the nearest wall and went about kissing her senseless. His tongue traced her lips, and she opened her mouth to him without hesitation. He pulled back, breathlessly, and dropped his face to trail fiery kisses down her jaw and neck, scalding across her collarbone and nipping at her shoulders.

Hermione was practically writhing against him, giving quiet whimpers and moans between her ragged gasps.

It was Sirius, with a groan that was not at all about pleasure, who pulled away first. He grit his teeth and paced across the room lightly, motioning for her to remain where she was.

"Give me a minute, love," he panted, bent at the waist with his hands on his knees. "I need to catch my breath. It's bloody hard to remember you're only seventeen when you're kissing me like that."

Hermione snorted, crossing her arms across her chest, and narrowed her gaze at him. "When _I'm _kissing _you_ like that? I do believe you were the one captaining that particular ship, Mr. Black,"

He flashed a mischievous grin at her from beneath his tousled hair. "Perhaps,"

It had been too long; far too long. Sirius had gone for years without touching another woman. True, he sowed some rebellious seeds out of his pain after Hermione left, but eventually women lost their allure to him. He wanted Hermione. Which was odd, and he knew it. Hermione had only been in his life for a very short time, in comparison, and she wasn't even technically real – to him at least, but it was like she had flipped some sort of switch in him. She'd awakened something in him – and swiftly killed it again when she left. It wasn't fair. Not at all.

Sirius had been lost, devastated, and angry. He'd lashed out at those around him, all for a girl he barely knew. A girl that made him feel alive, worthy, _real_. Hermione had done something – changed something – in him and there was just simply no going back.

For twenty-seven years, Sirius had hoped. True, each year a bit of his hope had died along the way, but he had still hoped.

And here she was, back, alive, breathing – _writhing_ – in front of him and he had to slam the brakes on because she hadn't aged. Not one damn day; and he was an old man now. The Gods, it seemed, had a malicious sense of humor.

Hermione had seen Sirius just a few days ago. But he had been seventeen; a boy in comparison to this man in front of her. His hair, though now cut vaguely the same, showed strands of silver if you looked close enough. His face was older with light crinkles at the corners of his eyes; the product of twenty-seven years of scowls.

What of them? To Hermione, they were just years: time had ceased to hold meaning for her. But to Sirius, she guessed, they would matter. He would calculate them over and over; he would dwell on them.

What was to become of them now?

Hermione ran a frazzled hand through her hair and regarded Sirius openly. Recovered from his hyperventilations, he had straightened his posture and was now leaning against the bedpost, across the room from her, studying her with a smile. She knew in that instant that he still loved her, despite all the obstacles that were surely in their way and a past that gaped between them.

And no, she couldn't explain it, and frankly she didn't give a damn, but she loved him. How he had wormed himself so completely in to her heart was beyond her.

And while it presented it's owns problems; mostly being that he had lived a life that she did not remember in a world that had forgotten her, she was willing to try.

She hoped he had the patience to do the same.

She smiled. "Well, gathered yourself, then?"

Sirius inclined his jaw. "Enough."

"So now what?" Hermione asked, settling herself at the small table by the foot of his bed.

Sirius inched his way across the room and lowered himself onto the stool opposite her. "That's a very good question," he murmured. "I'm quite old enough to be your father."

Hermione shrugged. "Wizards don't age like muggles."

"Sometimes," he allowed vaguely.

"What's Dumbledore? A hundred and twenty? Thirty? More?" she countered.

Sirius chuckled. "Another good question, love. But somewhere thereabouts I'd venture."

"So if you're going to live to a hundred and fifty, what's the big deal over twenty-seven years?"

Sirius smiled. "The difference is that I'm nearly a third of the way there."

Hermione huffed. "We obviously take different views on the subject of age."

"Obviously," Sirius agreed, settling back into the chair.

"I prefer my men older, anyway." She snipped. "I hate dating a boy only to find out he's a complete dunderhead."  
Sirius laughed quietly. "What's to say I'm not a complete dunderhead?"

"Oh," Hermione said with a smirk. "I _know_ you're a complete dunderhead; I just happen to like this particular dunderhead."

Sirius laughed loudly then turned somber. "Hermione, I don't know how this could possibly work,"

Hermione leaned across the table and draped her hands overtop his. "I don't either. The point is, I'm willing to try." She paused for a minute, considering. "Unless, you've moved on."

Sirius snorted and withdrew his hands. "I haven't touched a woman in ten years, Hermione. Every woman I look at gets compared to you – and falls disgustingly short." He shoved back from the table, stood and began pacing, his agitation evident. "Twenty-seven years ago you showed up and you made me love you. I don't know how, but it happened, and then you disappeared and _you took my life with you_. I had nothing – NOTHING – Hermione, after you went. I couldn't function, I couldn't breathe for Merlin's sake! So, no, Hermione I haven't moved on, because the _is_ _no moving on._"

Hermione bit her lip and stared. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Sirius looked down at her and visibly deflated. "No, no. I'm sorry. Let's forget my rant and talk about something else for a bit. How are Lil's and James?"

"They miss you. James won't even acknowledge your existence."

Sirius snorted and dropped back into his chair. "Of course he won't, the little prat. I suppose I'm due for a visit."

"Overdue," Hermione chided gently. "Have you even met Harry?"

Sirius shook his head. "My godson? No. It's a shame, I know. I just, well, I just had some problems being there. And as the years kept passing, I just felt more and more guilty for putting it off, I was embarrassed," he trailed off.

"It's alright," Hermione said kindly, standing. "But we should go back."

Sirius looked stricken. "Now?"

"No time like the present," Hermione chirped.

"I'm a teacher; I haven't packed a thing." He stuttered.

"The school year is nearly over, someone can give your final exam. Go and tell the headmaster you've had a family emergency and need to leave immediately. I'll pack your things."

After several more protests, Sirius had slunk away to find the headmaster and announce his leave of absence. Hermione hurried about his room, shrinking and packing away all his belongings. She was relieved that Sirius had agreed to accompany her home, no matter how begrudgingly. She was taking a moment to look at the odd potion ingredients Sirius kept when he returned, accompanied by the headmaster. A rush of cool air whooshed into the room with their arrival and Hermione faltered in her steps. The headmaster, swathed in black robes was, undoubtedly, a vampire. His alabaster skin, half-moon under-eye bruises, air of chill, and startlingly scarlet eyes attested to it. These things aside, he was rather handsome with thick black hair and a lean physique. Regaining her composure quickly, she forced a smile and introduced herself.

"A beautiful name," he purred. "I am Thomas Riddle, the second."

Hermione dropped the jars from her hands and they shattered at her feet.

Tom glanced at the shards briefly. "My father's reputation precedes me, I see."

_______________________________________

Hermione was practically dragging Sirius along behind her as she nearly sprinted out of the opening of Petrich. She stopped in her tracks, ignored his panted questions, and apparated them away from the rocky place.

They landed, panting and flat on their asses, in a quiet forest in Italy.

"I am," Sirius gasped. "Too old for that kind of crap. What is wrong with you?"

"Why," Hermione puffed. "Are you working for that vile creature?"

Sirius stood up, rubbing his backside, and offered his free hand to heft Hermione to her feet. "Tom ain't so bad. He's fluffy compared to his father."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Adolph Hitler was fluffy compared to Voldemort."

Sirius chuckled, lugging Hermione up. "I suppose you have a point. But Tom doesn't speak to his father; hasn't for years. Voldemort disowned him when he was bitten."

"Does it matter?" Hermione said absently, glancing around in an attempt to get her bearings. "The apple never falls far from the tree,"

Sirius froze and Hermione glanced up. "What?" she asked. "Oh, oh…oh shit, Sirius, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that…" she backpedaled. "I mean, of course _you're_ nothing like your father. I just meant that the Riddles – well, they're from particular stock…"

"Family is who you choose, Hermione, do not judge someone based on their blood." He said stiffly.

"Of course," she relented. "I'm sorry."

"No harm done, love." He murmured. "Where are we anyway?"

"Er…Italy? Maybe; I was in a bit of a hurry," she said sheepishly.

"About that," he snorted, taking her hand and leading her forward. "I'm old and I've spent far too many years in smoky barrooms to travel like that,"

Hermione laced her fingers with his and glared at him as they walked. "You are not old," she hissed. "Just lazy and out of practice."

"Ouch," he chuckled as they broke through the tree line and were greeted by the Parthenon in the distance. "Italy it is. Why don't you let me handle this one." He said gently, tucking her arm around his and taking the step to apparate them.

Lily's open-mouthed shock wasn't becoming to her, as she stood at the threshold of her home staring at Sirius and Hermione on her doorstep. Speech had escaped her and she simply gaped at them; her lips moving like those of a fish. But it was James' reaction that was painful to watch as he approached from behind Lily. Anger, first, swept across his face followed shortly by obvious betrayal. They passed quickly and a gut wrenching sadness replaced them. His green eyes filled with tears, his glasses steamed, and he fell to his knees. Sirius pushed past Lily gently, stroking her cheek as he passed, and went to James, falling to his knees before him and wrapping his arms around him. Hermione moved to wrap an arm around Lily's waist to comfort the sputtering redhead. James reached out with a shaky hand and touched Sirius' face fleetingly. He let out a sob, pulled his arm back, and let fly. His fist slammed into Sirius' face with the force of an out-of-control train and both Hermione and Lily let out a shriek to match Sirius' howl of pain.

"Completely unaccept....dunder…thoughtless…bloody fools…childish…" Lily muttered darkly as she worked on healing Sirius' broken nose and mopped up the blood from his face. Hermione sat on the arm of his chair, smirking, and James sat across from them looking quite pleased with himself. Sirius looked passive, wincing as the fragments of bone in his nose healed under Lily's touch.

Lily threw a death glare over her shoulder at James, and he smirked.

"Git deserved it." James said quietly.

"No one deserves to have their nose broken," Lily snapped reproachfully.

"No, no, Lils, I definitely deserved it." Sirius said softly as the last bit of bone snapped audibly back into place. He winced and wiggled his nose. "Thanks," Sirius stood, stretching his lean body, and grinned at James.

Slowly, James returned the grin, stood, and hugged Sirius roughly.

Lily shoved James away and threw herself in a chuckling Sirius' arms with abandon.

"You're home," she sobbed against his chest.

"I'm home, Lils," he confirmed, stroking her hair as she attempted to burrow into his chest. Hermione laughed happily.

Lily broke away from Sirius and threw herself at Hermione. "Thank you for bringing him home," she murmured.

Hermione hugged her back. "Not a problem. Twenty-seven years is long enough for a temper tantrum."

"Ouch," Sirius chuckled, putting on his wounded face.

"The woman has a point," James agreed lightly and Sirius rolled his eyes.

The evening progressed quickly, aided by the addition of several aged bottles of fire whiskey. They sat around the Potter's huge dining room table, reminiscing about the past and speculating on the future. Their plans got crazier with each subsequent bottle of liquor, and, by the fourth bottle, they were convinced they should march on the Dark Lord's castle and end this silly war once and for all. Sirius was on his feet and tugging James up when Harry walked into the room. Hermione spit out her last shot and Lily giggled.

"Mom…Dad…er…." Harry stammered in confusion. "Are you drunk? Isn't that girl from my school? Who is that?"

"We….are…" James slurred, pulling himself up by Sirius' shoulder and stumbling a few steps. "absolutely not drunk." He hiccupped and giggled. Hermione snorted and covered her mouth quickly.

Lily rose slightly. "Yes, dear, we're drunk," she confirmed. "And, um. Yes she's from your school…sort of…" Lily tripped and flopped back into her seat. "And that," she slurred grandly, gesturing vaguely at Sirius. "is your god father, Sirius,"

Sirius clicked his heels together exaggeratedly and bowed, lost his balance, and was towed upright by James.

"Sirius Black, at your service." He said somberly, moving toward Harry slowly, gazing at him in wonder. "It's a bloody carbon copy of you, Prongs," he murmured.

"Right," Harry said slowly, taking a step backwards. "I picked a fantastic weekend to come home, then."

"Indeed," Sirius roared happily, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "We both did!"

By the wee hours of the morning, Lily, James, and Sirius had passed out – strewn about the living room. Hermione, wide awake, tripped her way out to the front stoop for some fresh air. She wasn't sober, not by a long shot, and her head was swimming. She brought her knees to her chest and dropped her head between them, hoping to stop the spinning.

Life was, it seemed, on an upturn. She had her friends back, the older set anyway, and they'd accepted her back in without question. Harry was here, and though she was avoiding him like the plague – while she was drunk, anyway, lest she slip up and expose herself – it was comforting to have him close by.

Sirius loved her. She knew it, and she held that information close to herself.

Remus would figure out what was best for everyone, she had no doubt. Soon she would have answers and she would be able settle into some semblance of life again.

Some things wouldn't be simple. Her mother, for example. What was she to do about that? She was curious to meet her and wondered if she would have a physical memory of her or if she would feel, as she suspected, nothing for the woman. It would be a difficult situation and she wondered what explanation she could give the woman that called Hermione her daughter. Only time would tell.

It would be time, soon, to begin destroying horcruxs. Soon it would be time for Voldemort to fall. She looked forward to that with a perverse amount of pleasure. She hoped that she would be included in his demise as it was directly his fault for the upheaval her life was in.

So lost in his thoughts was she, that she didn't hear the door open behind her, and she nearly jumped out of her skin when a blanket was draped around her shoulders.

"Sorry,"

Not the deep rumbling of Sirius, but the even cadence of Harry. _Shit_.

"S'ok," she mumbled. "Thanks,"

"No problem," he assured her, dropping to sit beside her and handing her a steaming mug of coffee. She smiled, accepting the mug with another thanks.

"So, I've got to ask," he said after a moment of silence. "What are you doing here getting wasted with my parents?"

_A completely legitimate question._ "Oh, er…it's sort of a long story."

"I assumed as much," he agreed. "Long story, short?"

Hermione scrambled for a plausible lie. "I'm a friend of Sirius',"

"Oh," Harry said slowly, obviously confused. "Yeah, you know, whenever my mum wrote to him she mentioned someone by the name of Hermione,"

"My mum," Hermione said quickly. "It's a family name. My mum was close to them in school."

"Ah," Harry said looking pacified and taking a sip of his coffee. "How come your mum doesn't come around then?"

"She's dead." Hermione said flatly. _Not a complete lie._

"I'm sorry," Harry muttered, embarrassed.

"It's ok," she assured him, sneaking a glance at him over the rim of her mug.

He smiled tentatively at her and she grinned back. They sipped their coffee in silence for awhile regarding the stars.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked quietly. "It's sort of weird,"

Hermione swallowed, forced a smile, and nodded.

"I have really strange dreams about you sometimes."

_Damnit, Remus, you missed something!_

"Oh?" she managed nonchalantly. "Pleasant ones, I hope."

He shrugged, blushing, obviously out of his comfort zone. "I guess. I mean they're not bad, you look a little different in them, but they're just odd."

"I see," she muttered non-committedly.

"I know," Harry laughed awkwardly. "Weird,"

"No, it's ok. We can't control our dreams. I hope they're entertaining for you at least."

"Never a dull moment," he confirmed with a chuckle.

Hermione smiled warmly at him and they fell silent again.

"Harry?" she asked quietly, her eyes fastened on the stars.

"Mmm?"

"Are you happy?"

He laughed. "That's a loaded question, Hermione,"

She turned toward him expectantly.

"Wow, hmm, am I happy?" he repeated. "Sometimes," he allowed. "I mean, I can smile and laugh, and let loose and all that…but,"

"But," she prompted.

"But something's always missing…here," he murmured, touching his chest. He laughed quietly. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I told you that. I didn't mean to unload on you."

Hermione shook her head and, against her better judgment, scooted closer and wrapped an arm around his waist. Harry wrapped his arm around her and sighed.

"What?" she whispered.

"It doesn't feel so empty right now,"

_Damnit Remus._

"I'm glad." She murmured, looking up at him.

Before Hermione could stop him, Harry leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. Shock rendered her useless, and her body melted against his. Misreading her shock for surrender, Harry turned slightly, placed a hand on either side of her face and kissed her deeply. Her fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt half pushing away, half drawing him closer. She shook her head slightly and Harry pulled back a few inches.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his breath tickling her face.

"Um, no, it's ok," she stammered, catching a head of dark locks whipping out of view in the front window, leaving the curtains swaying. _Shit_. Either James or Sirius, and with her luck she was betting the latter. _Shit._

Harry grinned sheepishly, sat back, and ran a hand through his unruly hair. "You're boyfriend is going to hunt me down," he said lightly.

Hermione did a double take. "Um, what?"

_Thank you for skimming over that fact, Dumbledore._

"Malfoy is going to try to kill me." Harry laughed.

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Draco?"

Harry laughed. "Forgotten your boyfriend already, Hermione?"

She let out a rush of air. "No, of course not; I'm just trying to process a few things."

"Do you want me to, ah, go?" he asked quietly.

"Um, no. Just give me a few minutes."

Wonderful. This is going to be a problem. I'm dating Draco Malfoy, which is…ew. I love Sirius – a man twenty-seven years my senior. Who, consequently, probably just saw me snogging his godson. Fantastic. Harry, who unbeknownst to him, I love deeply…is attracted to me because he's stuck between parallel realities. Great. And I'm pretty sure, Severus has an inappropriate attraction to me. Perfect.

_I've got to pull all this together and manage it – while attempting to defeat one of the darkest, and to be honest – greatest, wizards of all time. Incredible._

_Time travel blows. _

"Ok," Hermione sighed, painfully sober. "I'm going to sleep on this."

She stood and Harry scrambled up beside her.

"I'm really sorry," Harry mumbled, looking at the ground.

"It's really ok, Harry. I'm not mad. Not at all." She assured him, giving him a brief hug. He squeezed her back, kissed her cheek tenderly, turned, and entered the house. She heard him charge up the stairs and close his door.

Sirius was settled at the dining table, a mug before him, waiting.

"Would you like to discuss that now or later?" he asked evenly as Hermione entered the room.

"Oh, now's fine, I suppose." She chuckled, settling her self opposite him. He gestured for her to continue.

"I can't get into specifics, Sirius, but you know that I spent some time…er…time traveling. And it turns out things are a bit…complicated.

First, as you've noticed, I've got a different mother, so that's difficult for me.

Secondly, you should know, that all of this revolved around Harry. In my time, he was my best friend. Due to that, he's experiencing something called a parallel reality. His body remembers me – not his mind, and it's very confusing for him. He's interpreting the void I somehow fill for him as attraction. We'll get it sorted out, I'm sure, but until then, I won't hurt him with rejections."

Sirius nodded, looking thoughtful.

"You should also be aware that I apparently have a boyfriend. Harry's just pointed that out to me. I do happen to know this individual from my time and I hated him then, so it's a safe bet that I'll hate him now."

Sirius smiled. "Who is he?"

"Draco Malfoy," she said absently.

Sirius half rose, shock and anger flitting across his face, then sat, then rose again. "A Malfoy?" he whispered dangerously.

Hermione was confused. "Um, yes?"

"You're dating the son of the Dark Lord's right hand man?" he thundered, slapping the table.

Hermione glared at him. "Sit down, Sirius." She snapped. "I thought we were beyond judging people by their blood?"

Sirius dropped into his seat. "A Malfoy is a Malfoy," he snarled.

"And a Riddle is a Riddle," she retorted. "And if we're playing that game; is a Black a Black?"

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "This is different. I don't see _Draco,_" he spit his name out like a disease. "running away from his family. Daddy-dearest is probably training him in the dark arts as we speak."

Hermione sighed. "I'd like to think myself had more sense than that. Only time will tell, alright?"

"I don't like it; a Malfoy having his filthy hands on you,"

Hermione crossed her arms across her chest. "Me either," she whispered.

The anger left Sirius and he reached out toward her; she relaxed and slipped her hands into his.

"There's more,"

Sirius forced a smile. "Of course there is. By all means, continue,"

"Severus Snape," she began.

"Snivelus?"

"_Severus_," she corrected sharply. "is a dear friend of mine. One who may or may not hold feelings of love or lust for me,"

Sirius withdrew his hands and sat back. He pursed his lips, closed his eyes, and took several deep breaths.

"I can handle you having a boyfriend, I can deal with seeing you snogging my godson, I can even digest all the discrepancies that come with your time travel," he murmured evenly. "But God help me…no…God help him, if I find out he has ever…and I mean ever…put his hands on you."

"Sirius," Hermione sighed.

"No, Hermione. I've been a raging good sport considering…but that's my line."

"Okay," she said slowly. "Okay Sirius. I understand. I will make it clear to him that it is entirely one sided as far as the attraction goes. I'll make him understand."

Sirius nodded stiffly.

Hermione rose and crossed the room to stand beside him. She lifted herself to sit on the table and squirmed until she was settled in front of him and grinned. Placing both hands behind her, she leaned back. "Come here, Sirius," she whispered throatily.

Sirius groaned as he gazed at the beautiful specimen of woman reclining practically in his lap. The seventeen-year-old specimen, he reminded himself. Several times. Almost eighteen. But still seventeen, he repeated the mantra in his head.

"What's the matter, not in the mood?" she purred.

Sirius growled under his breath. "I'm always in the mood for you, love." He managed. "But I'm also in the mood to keep my ass out of jail,"

"No one has to know," she murmured, arching her back.

Sirius cursed. "I have to know,"

"Sirius," she said with authority. "Put your hands on me. Now."

Sirius nearly choked. "What did you say?"

"I said," Hermione began, sitting up, grabbing his hands, and placing them on her waist. "Put. Your. Hands. On. Me. Now."

Sirius closed his eyes, savoring the warmth of her bare skin, as his breath came in pants. Hermione reclined under his hands again, dropped her head back, and moaned softly as his fingertips brushed over her sides. With a feral growl, Hermione climbed into his lap and pressed her lips to his almost violently. He responded immediately, with ferocious abandon, grabbing a handful of her hair and tugging her head back to take charge of the kiss. He pillaged her mouth with his tongue, kissing her so hard their teeth clicked together and he was sure their lips would bruise. She was tearing at his hair, rocking her hips back and forth over his pelvis, exciting him beyond anything he'd ever experienced.

Where the hell had she learned this?

When her hands dropped to the button of his pants, he caught her wrists, and pulled back. She pouted, but he ignored her, lifted her back onto the table, and shoved his chair back. "I…a…need a minute,"

"Please, Sirius, I can't wait any longer," she whimpered.

He tried to steady his breathing. "We can not make love until you're of age," he said with forced conviction.

She immediately looked wounded. "You don't want me?"

Sirius barked a laugh and gestured to the bulge in his pants. "Don't ask stupid questions. When you are of age, I will ravage you until you don't know up from down; left from right. But not until then."

She bit her lip and considered him for a minute. "Will you go down on me?"

Sirius' eyes bulged. "Excuse me?"

"If you won't make love to me, will you go down on me, or is that off limits too?" she asked curiously.

"Ah…I think that's off limits," he muttered. The bulge in his pants was becoming painful, excited further by her dirty talk.

"Oh," she pouted. "Can I go down on you?"

Sirius coughed loudly, and his hands fluttered about uselessly looking for something to grab on to. Finding nothing, he clamped his fingers around the seat of his chair. "No," he squeaked out, his voice an octave higher than usual.

Hermione sighed. "You're no fun."

Sirius bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. "When's your birthday?" he choked out.

"September nineteenth,"

"What day does that fall on?" he said through clenched teeth.

"A Saturday, I think,"

"Friday night at midnight," he spit out. "Until Sunday night – you are mine. Forty-eight hours I am going to spend doing things to you that would make Merlin cry. Do you understand me?"

Hermione smiled. "You could do those things now,"

"No," he managed, standing. "We'll do things by the book,"

Hermione sighed. "At least let me take care of that for you tonight," she purred, pointing at his hips.

His step faltered, his knees going weak. "For the love of Merlin, woman! You're killing me,"

Hermione giggled. "Fine. September nineteenth at midnight. I'll be the one in a corset and heels."

Sirius gripped the wall for balance. "Okay," he squeaked. "I'll be the mad man – driven so by his inhuman desire for said nymph in a corset and heels."

"Deal," Hermione laughed, hopping down off the table with a grin, moving to the hearth and flooing away with a wink.


	4. Chapter 4

Authors Note: I never promised that it would be EASY for Hermione and Sirius, did I? Consider that before the hate mail starts flowing, lovlies.

* * *

Hermione returned to Hogwarts Sunday evening accompanied by Harry. Sirius was there, with James and Lily, to see them off as they prepared to floo. She hugged and kissed Lily as she would her own mother to avoid any further suspicion from Harry. She only smiled and waved to James. Sirius shook Harry's hand then leaned down to kiss Hermione's cheek and she was sorely tempted to turn her face and catch his lips off guard. She restrained herself though couldn't help but goose Sirius when he hugged her, earning a snicker from James, a giggle from Lily, a gulp for Sirius, and a 'what's so funny' from Harry.

Giving an innocent shrug, Hermione gave one last wave, allowed Harry to grasp her hand, and stepped into the grate.

They landed, with excessive force, Hermione noted, in Professor McGonagall's grate. Hermione stomped her feet free from soot and allowed Harry to lead her forward, fingers twined. They walked silently through the quiet castle, each lost in their own thoughts. Hermione thought nothing of having her fingers wrapped around Harry's; it felt so natural.

"Hermione!"

She knew that voice from her past, the refined haughtiness of it. Draco. Harry dropped her hand and spun to face him, while she turned slowly around.

"Potter," he spit out, his eyes burning. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing with my girlfriend?"

"Stuff it, Malfoy," Harry hissed.

Draco drew his wand first, followed by Harry, before Hermione threw herself between them. "Stop!"

"What are you doing with this filth, Hermione?" Draco bellowed.

"Harry is my friend, Draco!" she cried, placing her palm firmly against each man's chest.

"Since when?" Draco spat.

"Since now, Draco. Knock it off! Both of you, for the love of Merlin!" Hermione yelled, but the boys didn't flinch. "Don't you two get it?" she snapped, dropping her arms. "You can't hurt each other without hurting me!"

Both Draco and Harry paused and relaxed their dueling stances slightly.

"Harry," Hermione said, softening her tone. "Go. I'll see you later, ok?"

He nodded stiffly, hugged Hermione tightly with a smirk, and stomped off down the corridor. Hermione turned slowly back toward Draco, steeling herself to break things off with him, but stopped short. There was real, honest to Merlin, pain etched across Draco's face. The perpetual sneer had been wiped away, and his face was open – vulnerable – and crushed.

"Where were you?" he asked quietly. "You just disappeared, and now you're back and different, somehow,"

"It was a long week," Hermione said unevenly, at a loss.

"Dumbledore wouldn't tell me anything except that you'd had a family emergency. Is everything alright, honey?"

_Honey?!_ "Er," Hermione faltered.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Hermione couldn't help herself, she glanced around to see if someone was behind her that Draco was treating with such kindness. "Erm," she hedged again.

Draco looked confused, but shook his head, took her hand in his and led her down the corridor, telling her that he had a surprise for her. He paused before a portrait of a homely witch bent over a cauldron and muttered a password. The witch granted them access without looking up from her potion. Inside a roaring fire, popping and spitting in the hearth, illuminated a small sitting room. A stout, overstuffed sofa sat before it, and the remaining three walls were lined, from floor to ceiling, with books. Some of the books look quite old, and at first glance Hermione saw several titles she'd never heard of before. She was delighted.

"I found it by accident a few days ago," Draco said softly behind her. "I knew you'd love it, so I cleaned it up for you, and set a password for it. It's all yours, honey."

Hermione let out a breath and regarded Draco for a moment before motioning toward the couch. "Sit down, Draco, we need to talk,"

Draco's pale eyes flashed, but he sat and looked up at her, waiting. Hermione sat facing him and grasped his smooth hand between hers. "Draco," she paused again, searching for a way to articulate herself. Coming up blank, she decided to go with the truth…or a slightly modified version of it. "Something's happened."

"What's wrong sweetheart?" he asked quickly.

"I'm not really your sweetheart, Draco, I'm not the same person I was two weeks ago. The girl you've known and loved is not the real Hermione Granger,"

"I…I'm not following,"

"I got mixed up in time travel," she tried again, squeezing his hands. "The Hermione you've been dating is a shadow of who I really am. I know that it's difficult to understand,"

Draco withdrew his hands and tilted his head to gaze at her. "Perhaps you could explain this new and, evidently improved, Hermione to me." he said with obviously forced calm.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't really know the Me you do, so I can't compare us. Could you tell me a little about Her, er, I mean Me…and, perhaps, us?"

"You have no memories?" he asked, affronted.

Hermione shook her head sadly. "Nothing. I have absolutely no memory of my mother – I had a different one this time around. I have no current memory of my childhood or of my time at Hogwarts,"

"Nor of me," Draco concluded in a whisper.

Hermione looked down and shook her head. "No," she whispered. "I'm so very sorry."

"Indeed," Draco murmured, forcing a show of bravado. "Tell me, how did you wind up time traveling?"

"It was a Time Turner accident," Hermione lied. "I went so far back, that by the time I got back – everything was different."

Draco nodded thoughtfully and rose, moving toward the bookshelves. "You're experiencing parallel realities, then. Your memories are of the time you lived these years, but they do not fit into the actuality of the current time."

"Exactly…I didn't know you knew about that,"

"Tell me," Draco mused, still scanning the shelves. "Did we know each other in your time?"

"Yes," Hermione whispered.

"And we did not get along," he concluded with a rueful smile. "You were with Potter?"

"No, we didn't get along, Draco, and no I wasn't dating Harry – but he was my best friend."

"I see," Draco laughed lightly, sliding the ladder toward him and climbing up a shelf, still looking at the titles. "Was I terrible to you?"

"A complete git," Hermione conceded.

"That's a shame," Draco said quietly, selecting a book and climbing down. "The last two years with you have been the most wonderful of my life." He finished, handing her the book; _Tempo Magico._

"Time Magic," Draco translated. "It deals with time travel and parallel realities – when to merge, when not to merge, _how_ to merge,"

Hermione hugged the book to her chest and smiled softly up at him. "Thank you, Draco. For what it's worth: I am sorry."

"I am too," he agreed, reaching up and stroking her cheek once. "It must be odd," he went on, dropping his hand to his side. "Remembering me as a monster when, in reality, I've loved you for so long."

"It's difficult," She agreed. "To associate my memories of you with the man before me. They're such polar opposites."

"I'd like to think that this is the real me," Draco murmured.

"Me too," Hermione whispered, her heart kicking into overdrive as Draco stepped toward her.

He brushed his long fingers over her jaw, closing his eyes as if he were savoring the texture of her skin; memorizing it. Hermione closed her eyes, let out a tiny sigh, and leaned her face into his hand. Why it felt so right, his fingers pulling softly through her hair, she didn't know. A quiet groan echoed in Draco's chest as he brought his other hand to the side face. Hermione reached out tentatively and pressed her fingertips against his cheek. He turned his face slightly to kiss her palm. She took a faltering step forward and Draco drew her into his embrace. Hermione's body melted against his and he brought his lips tenderly to hers. Their soft kisses grew in intensity until they were gasping, clinging to each other, afloat in a hazy sea of lust. Her body responded to his with surprising abandon and not once did she feel out of place, or as if she should pull away. Of course this was right, it felt completely natural to slide her hands beneath his shirt to trace the planes of his back; of course the curves of his body were familiar. For the first time since Hermione had returned to this time, she felt right. Nothing was awkward, nothing was out of place; it was as if she belonged here completely, in this moment. Even when she lifted her arms and Draco dragged her shirt over her head, she didn't flinch. She was home.

"Hermione," he murmured against her ear. "My sweet Hermione, you see, you do remember me,"

That gave her pause and her body stilled in his arms. She brought her ocher eyes to his, and the pain at her impending rejection was written so clearly there, her heart broke for the man in her arms. And so, she kissed him – she kissed him with delirious abandon and stuffed her doubt, her thoughts of Harry, her feelings for Sirius, her uncertainty – all of it – she stuffed it down deep within her and locked it away for now. The man kissing her, caressing her body, pressing all of her secret buttons – he loved her. Regardless of which version of herself she was currently, this man loved her. And if she could give him this, if she could stave the pain off just a little longer for him – she would. She owed him that much at least. After all, she'd already taken so much for him; that this was one thing she could give him in return. And so as their bodies melted into one, it was Draco's name she gasped, Draco's shoulder she bit into, and Draco's eyes that bored into her own; radiating wave after wave of love, mingled with a pain so acute it brought physical manifestations of pain to Hermione's already shattered heart.

And when they had finished, laying wrapped around each other as their heart rates and breathing returned to normal, Hermione turned toward him and smiled. The smile was not forced, because she felt no guilt. Confusion – absolutely, but not guilt. Yes, she'd managed to get herself into a monumental mess but for the moment she felt completely at home.

Draco kissed her softly and smiled back, drawing her nude body tighter against himself.

"Can you tell me about us?" Hermione asked, tucking her cheek against his chest.

"Hmm," Draco breathed, pressing his lips against the top of her head. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything,"

He chuckled and Hermione pressed a kiss to his chest. "There was a lot of this," he said mischievously.

Hermione smacked him playfully and sat up to gaze down at him. "Seriously, Draco,"

Draco tucked both arms behind his head and dragged his gaze up her exposed body, before cocking an eyebrow. "Perhaps you should cover up, honey, because I will not get through with this story if you don't," He emphasized his point by dropping a hand to slide it up the inside of her thigh. Hermione's head dropped back.

"We could," he muttered, sliding his hand higher. "always talk later…" He sat up quickly, and kissed her. "Much," he added, trailing his kisses down her jaw and neck. "Much," he went on, kissing her collarbone. "Much later," he finished, bringing his lips to her exposed breast.

And later it was.

Afterwards, Hermione wrapped in a quilt and Draco, begrudgingly half dressed, they settled before the fire with a photo album.

"Are you sure you want to see these," he asked. "It might be strange for you."

"And what we just did wasn't?" she teased lightly.

"What we just did _twice_," Draco corrected with a smug smirk.

Hermione laughed. "Show me the damn book, Draco,"

Draco cracked the album. The first photograph showed Draco and Hermione standing together, somewhat awkwardly, in front of a grand fireplace. Draco was dressed to the 9's in formal dress robes, and Hermione wore a satin, a-line, gown in pale pink. Beneath the picture, the caption read: "Fifth Year, Christmas Ball". Hermione turned the page. The next few pages were candid shots of the two of them in various places. One showed them both in swimsuits, embracing, on the deck of yacht with a distinctly Grecian-looking town in the background. It was labeled, "Summer '02, Greece". There were photographs of them at beaches, and in skiing gear, at Hogsmeade, and in Hogwarts. There were photos of them with friends, Hermione recognized Luna Lovegood and Cho Chang, with Draco's mother, and with Hermione's parents. She touched the photo gently of the woman that must be her mother. She felt no pull toward the woman at all. She sighed and turned the page. There were their posed photos from the Halloween and Christmas Balls of sixth year, along with several pictures of their most recent trip to, apparently, China over spring break.

"We travel a lot," she commented lightly.

"You love to travel, er, I mean, you did…you do?" he fumbled over the words.

Hermione smiled at him. "I like to travel, I just don't remember having the luxury to travel for leisure."

"Your time," Draco mused, twirling a strand of her hair around his finger. "Sounds difficult."

Hermione laughed shortly. "Extremely," She paused. "Why are there no pictures of your father?"

Draco looked taken aback. "Pictures of Lucius?" he asked before pausing. "It's difficult to remember you've no memory of our lives together." He apologized. "Lucius is dead, Hermione."

"Oh." She murmured. "Oh, I'm so sorry Draco," she said, attempting to keep her relief from coloring her statement.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "No, you're not. And neither am I, Hermione. He was a horrible man playing at the wrong side of this war. His assassination was a relief to all of us. And I'd venture to say that in _your_ memories, you do not remember him kindly either,"

Hermione gave him a half smile. "No, you're right, I don't,"

She flipped through a few more candid shots of them at parties before coming to a set of professional looking photos. The first showed them in jeans and t-shits, staring into each other's eyes, holding a rose between themselves. The next, showed Hermione settled between Draco's legs, with Draco resting against an oak tree, his arms wrapped around her. Another showed their silhouettes on a beach at twilight.

"What are these?" she asked.

"Oh, um, those," Draco stalled.

"Draco?"

"We were thinking about using them for an engagement shot." He mumbled, looking away.

"An engage…" Hermione choked out.

"I'm sorry. I told you that it would be strange for you to look at these, I shouldn't have let you," Draco backpedaled.

"No, um, it's alright, I just…um…wow, I mean," she stuttered, glancing instinctively at her left hand.

Draco caught her and laughed quietly. "We were going to go ring shopping together this summer in Greece." He flipped the page quickly and tapped a photo of them at Acropolis. "You were always drawn to Greece for some inexplicable reason,"

Hermione's head was spinning.

"Of course, that's out of the picture now," he said with a forced laugh.

"Oh, Draco," Hermione sighed, pressing her fingers against her temple. "I've made such a mess of everything."

"No, no," he soothed, pulling her hands away from her face and twining his fingers with hers. "It's not your fault. It was an accident. Come on, let's put this away." He murmured, tugging at the album in her lap.

"No!" Hermione cried, twisting it out of his reach. She wasn't nearly done punishing herself for the pain she'd caused. "I want to finish it."

She flipped the page, ignoring Draco's sigh, and pointed to another shot of them. They were dressed in hiking gear, Hermione beaming and Draco looking slightly forlorn.

Draco laughed. "You dragged me all over Bulgaria last summer looking for Durmstrang. It was miserably hot and we wandered through the mountains for days. We never found it."

"Durmstrang," Hermione breathed.

"You were practically obsessed with it, but could never tell me why."

"Parallel realities…there was…is…a man, Sirius, who taught there,"

Understanding darkened Draco's eyes. "A man, perhaps, you'd known – loved – in your time travels?"

Hermione nodded, tears blurring her vision. She turned her head away.

"It's ok," Draco assured her, his pain thick in his words. "Hermione," he sighed. "I need you to be honest with me. I know you don't _think_ I deserve it, but I do – you loved me just as much as I love you."

She bit her lip and faced him. "I left in the middle of a war," she began quietly.

When she was finished, she glanced at Draco to gauge his reaction. His face was a mask of calm.

"It's ok," he said finally. "I still love you – _YOU_, Hermione. All of you. And I know you can love me. Again. I know you can. So I'm going to fight for you. I'm going to fight until you tell me that you can never love me. This Sirius character better be prepared, Hermione, he may have thirty years on me – but I had your heart once and I'll have it again,"

Hermione stared, clutching the photo album in her hands. "Alright," she whispered finally.

* * *

Hermione berated herself as a coward as she lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, with tears soaking her pillow. The sun was rising, painting her room with rosy shadows. She should have gone straight to Sirius and told him what had happened. She should have admitted that she was confused, that she was hurting, that she did have feelings for Draco. Instead, she'd taken the coward's way out – running to her room to sob like an emotionally retarded Slytherin, clutching at the photo album that detailed a life she couldn't remember. She'd locked the door and ignored Luna's gentle knocking, willing herself deeper into the despair that was ripping at her heart. Why couldn't this be easy? Why couldn't she love one man correctly? Why did she have to keep hurting people? Anger, red and hot, edged its way into her ocean of sadness. This was so unfair! She'd done the world a service that had destroyed her life, and whatever entity ruled over them all was making things progressively worse for her. She wanted to hit something. She hammered on her pillow for a while before giving up with a sigh and scrubbing at her puffy face. She had to grow up; she had to tell Sirius. And then, perhaps, run away to Greece. Hermione smiled at the plan before dismissing it. She'd be an adult about this. What was the worst that could happen?

* * *

"Hello, love, to what do I owe this surprise visit?" Sirius asked warmly, a satisfied grin spreading across his face as Hermione appeared in the Potter's grate. When he took in her bedraggled appearance, the grin faded to a look of concern. "What happened?"

"Come with me," she choked out, marching out of the grate and into the dining room, clinging to the album in her hands.

Sirius followed quickly, settling himself at the table where she instructed. She handed him the album and he paged through it, his face a carefully practiced mask of calm. When he'd taken in every photo, he closed the book slowly, and brought his stormy eyes to hers. "You're going to have to spell it out for me, Hermione,"

"Draco is a good man," she said slowly. "A good, good, decent man, who loves me to the very depths of his soul."

Sirius swallowed back the bile in his throat. "Indeed?"

"Yes," she reiterated, rising and beginning to pace. "I can't deny that I've feelings for him,"

"I see," Sirius said calmly.

Hermione stopped pacing and looked at him. "And for you, Sirius,"

"Quite a predicament," he allowed quietly.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "That's it? That's all you've got to say?"

"What do you want me to say, Hermione? Do you want me to rant and rave, and throw a fit? Do you want me to demand you never see him again? Shall I hunt him down and beat him within an inch of his life?" Sirius managed to spit out quietly.

"I want to know what to do!" Hermione yelped. "I'm so confused, Sirius, my whole bloody life is upside down. I don't know what to do," she sobbed. "I love you and I think, maybe, I love him. What am I supposed to do? How do I know what is real? I can't go around sleeping with the two of you,"

The carefully crafted mask of calm slipped a little. "You…can't…go…around…sleeping…" he trailed off, his eyes flashing dangerously.

Hermione bit her lip. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Sirius raked his finger down his jaw line, taking deep breaths. He rose and moved to gaze out the window, his face smoothing out. When he looked at her again there was cool detachment in his eyes. "You know, Hermione, I think this is for the best," he said slowly. "I wanted to tell you; I just didn't know how. I think, perhaps, we hopped into this silly affair too quickly. Twenty seven years ago we had a fling – oh a good fling," he allowed, ignoring the blatant pain on Hermione's face and remaining calm. "But it's not something to build a life around. I think we'd be making a mistake if we tried. Besides, I'm far too old for you. Even if you can overlook that fact – I can't. I need someone closer to my age – someone with similar life experiences. You need the same. If Malfoy is as good to you as you say, you should absolutely pursue things with him. I can't be a doting boyfriend to you; it isn't my style. I think you should go back to Malfoy,"

Hermione felt her chest crushing in on itself; she was gasping, fresh tears trickling down her face to drip against the hardwood. "You," she gasped. "You don't love me?"

Sirius' face steeled beneath his flint eyes. "Not in the way you're referring to, Hermione, of course not. It was silly of us to pretend what we had could have survived a twenty-seven year absence."

Hermione took an unsteady breath. "Oh,"

"Honestly," Sirius said briskly. "Malfoy will treat you much better than I ever would and your ages are so much better suited. You should go back to him. Now." He finished, handing Hermione the photo album she'd brought.

Hermione nodded mechanically, turning away from him as fresh pain constricted her heart with each rejection he continued to fire at her. She moved slowly to the fireplace and entered it, her body jerking unnaturally with silent sobs. She flooed away without a backward glance.

"Sirius," Lily's voice was soft with concern.

He turned to look at the redhead in the doorway. "Where's James?" he managed.

"At work," she confirmed, opening her arms and moving towards him.

Sirius' façade crumbled, and his face burned with agony, his eyes blistering with a pain so intense Lily had to look away for a moment.

"I did what was right," he whispered brokenly. "Right, Lily? I did what was best for Hermione?"

"You did what you thought was best, Sirius, yes," Lily allowed softly as Sirius collapsed into her arms, too broken to cry.

* * *

Hermione stumbled out into McGonagall's empty office, fumbled her way out of the room, and took the first set of stair she came to. They led to the astronomy tower. She made her way along blindly, falling several times and opening gashes on her shins and knees. When she reached the top, she made her way to the railing she used to sit against with Severus, and collapsed. She sobbed on the floor there for a long time, before lifting her wand and sending a Patronus. It wasn't more than twenty minutes later that she heard hurried steps on the stairs, and mere seconds after that she was hefted into a set of strong arms, cradled, and murmured reassurances mixed with oaths of murder and bodily harm to whoever had caused her such pain. She clung to Severus' neck weakly, sobbing into his chest loudly.

"Hermione," he crooned. "We're going to sit down and I'm going to look at your legs; you're bleeding everywhere."

"I hope I bleed to death," she moaned against him.

"Don't talk like that," he snapped, lowering them to the ground slowly. Hermione curled in his lap, and it took much pleading and a little force to pry her away enough so he could heal her scraped up legs. He murmured incantations over her cuts, watching them close instantly with satisfaction. Hermione's wailing sobs had turned to occasional gasps as she watched him heal her legs intently. Her eyes were swollen and puffy, her nose an unbecoming shade of scarlet, and her lips twice their size from her nervous chewing of them. Severus stroked her hair gently, rocking her side to side, waiting for her breathing to calm enough to question her. As her hysteria ebbed, and Hermione gathered herself, she began to wonder if this had been a bad idea. What if Severus was attracted to her? She couldn't begin to deal with that now. The thought threw her into another fit that befuddled Severus further. He was frightened by her outburst but did his best not to show it and concentrated on comforting her. He thought, briefly, about summoning the werewolf, thinking that her hysteria might be the signs of a parallel reality fueled breakdown, but decided to wait until she could answer for herself.

"I…I have to ask you something," she wailed.

"Anything," he allowed.

"Do…do you love me?"

"Of course I love you, you silly girl," Severus said easily.

"No…no…I mean are you in love with me?" she panted.

"Oh, Hermione," he said slowly, carefully gauging her reaction to his words. "You are a wonderful young women, and the best friend I've ever had…but, honey, I'm married now,"

Hermione froze. "You're married?"

"For twelve years," he confirmed quietly, wary of her reaction to the news.

"Sev!" she cried, a grin spreading across her face. "That's wonderful!" She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

"Yes," he said slowly against her cheek. "Wonderful. Do you mind telling me what this is all about now?"

Hermione haltingly told him what had happened, breaking back into sobs when she recounted her last disastrous meeting with Sirius. Severus drew her into his arms again.

"Shh," he murmured. "It sounds to me, darling, that you're much better off without him. This Draco seems like he knows how to treat you the way you deserve. And frankly, Hermione, Sirius Black was always an absolute idiot. Twenty-seven years has done nothing for his social skills, I see. Not to mention, my dear," he went on softly. "Twenty-seven years _is_ a long time _and_ a big gap. Especially when it comes to someone so infantile as Sirius." Severus paused and smiled down at Hermione's tear stained face. "I'm not saying it can't be done, honey, just that it takes a certain level of maturity – a level Sirius Black has not, does not, nor will ever possess. Consider yourself lucky to get out when you did." He paused again, thinking. "I could kill him," he offered seriously.

Hermione snorted and smiled reluctantly up at Severus.

"There's my girl," he laughed.

Hermione rolled her eyes and scrambled down from his lap. "Tell me about your wife," she demanded. "And why am I just now finding out?"

Severus touched his chest in mock hurt. "I haven't seen you in twenty seven years, that's why!"

Hermione crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "Then you should talk quickly,"

"Indeed," he agreed with a laugh, launching into the tale of his wife.


End file.
